You Broke My Heart
by TruC7
Summary: As teenager Chuck Bass was feral, heartless and immoral. Blair Waldorf softened him. When Chuck and Blair have children- you'd expect Chuck to be a doting father- Because we know he has an amazing heart. Then why is Chuck so cruel to their son?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: You broke my heart**

**Summary: ****As a teenager Chuck Bass was feral, heartless and immoral. But then he met Blair Waldorf and softened. When Chuck and Blair in the future have children- you'd expect Chuck Bass to be a doting father- Because we know he has an amazing heart. Then why is Chuck so cruel to their son?**

**Disclaimer: Sigh. Pains me to say but I don't own them.**

**A/N: I've had this idea for a while and I've finally put it in text! I have utterly NO idea if it works out well or not…and I really don't know how this piece is! So let me know what you think! **

_"Children will not remember you for the material things you provided but for the feeling that you cherished them.__"_

_-Richard L. Evans_

_..._

He was sitting alone in his study, his plum housecoat enfolding him as always. He was a quiet man not extraordinarily handsome- not in the obvious sense anyway. His stature was average, his eyes almond shaped and piercing, his face rather pale. Yet this was a man shockingly alluring, a man who could halt a street with a glance, a man that made thousands salivate for approval or even recognition. His face was devilishly attractive rather than characteristically beautiful; his smile held sinister meaning rather than appeal, his face was built strong and intelligent rather than with chiseled features. His whole approach spoke of such supremacy, power and cold arrogance that it melted anyone into a puddle.

This man's name was Charles Bartholomew Bass.

No one any longer remembered him as Chuck. Perhaps there was once a time when he had been a Chuck but that was so horribly long ago that he barley remembered what it had felt like.

Charles took a puff of his Castillo pipe and opened the first page of the Wall Street Journal. His dark eyes roved the page…in the darkness they appeared as raven black pools of detachment.

There was a crash and a bang and a shriek, it would have been enough to make anyone jump in their seats but Charles merely flicked his gaze towards the door.

He was rather used to this now.

There was a scamper of pattering footsteps and then a hushed, pleading sound:

"_Miss Cherie,_ please do not go in there now- he is not in a good mood-"

"Let me go, Ophelia! I want to go in!"

"But Miss _Cherie_, he will yell at you!"

"No- let me _go!_"

"Miss- Wait!"

But there was a grumble and a cry and the doors of Charles's study burst open.

There was a delighted scream, _"Daddy!"_

A little girl no more than four years old, ran into the room as fast as her petite legs would carry her. She was a stunning little thing, with nut brown eyes- the darkest brown an iris could be without turning black. Thick, glossy, luxuriously chestnut locks, naturally sun-kissed sorrel and auburn in places, cascaded to her shoulders, curling sweetly by her small chin. Her lips were a cupid's bow, cherry red and pouting prettily. Her pale cheeks were flushed to the softest petal pink as she ran to her father. All in all, she was a vision of overwhelming beauty.

"Daddy!" she cried running up to Charles, who for a moment merely stared at her impassively. "Daddy, you're home!"

And she scurried into her father's arms so that he had no choice but to hold her lest she fall.

Her pale arms circled around his neck and she reached to give him a loving, warm kiss on his cheek. That was enough.

Charles Bass's eyes, a moment ago raven black, softened.

The impassiveness of his face died. As he held his child, he could have almost resembled a caring father.

"You shouldn't be here, Princess," he murmured. "Daddy has work to do."

She pouted. "Daddy you're only reading the newspaper! You're home early! Do you want to hear how my day went?"

He sighed. "How was your day, Princess?"

She stared at him for a moment and touched his face with a small, curious hand. She wondered why she had no memories of her father being anything but sad.

"We did finger painting today!" she informed him brightly, hoping to cheer him up.

Chuck groaned softly. His robe was stained with bright blue and red spots, as was now his cheek, where she had tentatively touched him.

"That's lovely," he made an effort to keep his temper down. "Sounds just lovely."

"And Daddy," she went on, nestling comfortably in his embrace and showing absolutely no intention of leaving just yet. "Mrs. Morris took us on a field trip!"

Charles frowned and sat up; he had had no information of this.

"What sort of field trip, Princess?"

"We went to the new park that has opened Daddy!" she told him excitedly. "The animal park! I fed the ducks!"

His whole face seemed to turn to stone. "You fed the ducks?"

She prattled on, not seeming to pay attention.

"One duck had a lovely green head and neck but brown wings! And one was lovely white- oh, oh and there were ducklings Daddy!"

He made an attempt to smile at her. "Was that so, Princess?"

She nodded eagerly. "Daddy, can I have a pond of ducks?"

Charles closed his eyes momentarily. "A pond of ducks?"

"Yes!" she clapped her hands animatedly. "Please, Daddy? In the garden? We can all play in it, you and me and Dorota and Ophelia and-"

He cut her off before she could say it. "Of course you can."

Her eyes shined at him and she leaned forward to give him the sort of idolizing kiss only a daughter could give a father.

"Thank you Daddy!" she locked small arms around his neck to hug him thanks. "I love you."

He held her gently for a moment. "I love you too, Cherish."

Perhaps she had heard the subtle ache in his voice for she frowned and leaned back but by then his face was preserved into a faultlessly warm smile.

"Daddy," she said slowly. "I think I should say hello to Artie now, or he'll feel bad and cry and won't talk to me."

Charles went back to the Wall Street Journal.

"Alright, Cherie."

She looked at him and for the first time hesitated. "Daddy…"

He didn't look up. "Yes?"

She put her weight on one foot then the other. "Daddy…can I have something else?"

He actually raised his head, mildly surprised. Cherie had never sounded anything less than demanding when she wanted something. Now she sounded almost…shy.

"Yes, Cherish. Anything."

She looked delighted at his words. "Promise?"

He promised hoping internally that it would be something doable like buying a pony or a piece of jewelry or a trip to Paris. That sort of thing.

But she then said, "Daddy, come and visit Artie with me!"

And he froze.

How could he tell his Cherish that this was the one thing he would not, could not do?

How could he tell her that he would have given her anything, absolutely anything else? That she had asked him something no one ever dared to suggest, and had done so with innocence, immaturity and even something like fear in her dark brown eyes?

Her eyes that had never resembled anything close to fear when dealing with her father- whom she knew she had well wrapped around her tiny finger- now for the first time seemed scared. Like even she knew she was bringing up a forbidden subject.

And like she also knew that she could be the only one allowed to bring it up and get away with it.

Charles sighed, "Cherish-"

And she looked so hopeful for a moment. So breathless and expectant for a four year old girl. In a moment of fatherly weakness Charles almost said yes to her.

_Almost._

But then he saw _her_ photograph over the piano case, _she _was there, smiling widely, her eyes a replica of her daughter's…that Charles landed back onto earth with a start.

Those eyes had always had a way of worming words and actions out of him he did not want to say or do. It seemed as though her daughter had inherited this trait.

He looked at Cherie's small, sweet face again as she watched him on tenterhooks and finally lost it.

"_Mrs. Cartwright!_" Charles roared, making the little girl almost jump out of her skin. "_Mrs. Cartwright!_"

There was a rush of footsteps and breathless and clearly terrified, Ophelia Cartwright burst into the room. "Mr. Bass!"

He glared daggers at her. "Get the child out of the room. Give her lunch. Make sure that she does not disturb me again."

"Y-yes, Mr. Bass," Ophelia stammered, reaching out for the little girl's hand but she ran out of her au pair's way.

"No! Go away! I want to be with my Daddy!" and she ran to bury herself in Chuck's arms.

For a moment he was perfectly still. Then he said, "Get her to leave, Mrs. Cartwright."

Again the au pair struggled to take the girl and again she failed as little Cherie climbed all over her father so as to avoid Ophelia.

"No Daddy!" she cried. "Let me stay!"

She burrowed a heartbroken face into his neck. "Don't send me away!"

Charles calmly extracted her tiny fingers from his hair. "Go have your lunch, Cherish."

"No Daddy!" she locked onto his housecoat with tenacious fingers. "I want to eat with you!"

"I've already eaten," he said exasperatedly as he finally managed to detach the angry child from his form. He effortlessly removed her struggling form to hand her off to Ophelia. "Be good now, Cherish. You'll see me tonight. I'll tuck you in."

She stopped fighting in the nanny's arms for a heartbeat. "Will you tuck Artie too?"

And Charles's eyes darkened with silent anger.

She started to cry as she was taken away. "Do you _hate_ Artie, Daddy?"

He was shocked and silent as the words came and he made no answer.

"Do you?" she cried, as the au pair marched to the doors, the little girl in her arms. "Do you hate him, Daddy?"

The doors closed and he could still hear his daughter cry as she was taken away.

A part of him…a part that was still Chuck…wanted to open all gates, snatch his child and embrace her so that she would never weep again. But so much of his being was now cold and unapproachable; so much of him was ruthless and unfeeling that honestly he was glad the girl had gone away. Gone away and taken all her maddening little questions with her.

_Do you hate him Daddy?_

He had the answer right here, at the tip of his tongue, he had known this answer for ages and he hadn't wanted to hurt her but his silence had probably answered her all the same.

_Yes._ Charles Bartholomew Bass buried his face in his hands, looking anywhere but at the portrait of the beautiful brunette on the piano case. _God, yes, yes, yes._

...

...

From the lost Journal of Blair Waldorf

(The night Cherish Cornelia Elizabeth Bass was born)

_Dear Diary,_

_I just woke up and found him here._

_I can't believe it. He won't leave her alone. Ever since she's been born and I charily handed her to him –(with him whining in protest of course- "Oh no, Blair, she's so delicate- so tiny- I'll drop her_- No_- I told you not to- Stop! Stop! I can't hold a- Oh hello, there Princess. You have Daddy's little nose now don't you? Yes you do. Oh yes you do.") _

_No joke._

_-Ever since he's held her- he's been…unrecognizable. _

_Serena, Nate, Lilly, Dan, Elizabeth, Eric and Rufus started to crack up once they heard Chuck talking like that. But he didn't pay the slightest attention. He was lost in some wonderfully deaf world._

_I _told _him he had nothing to be afraid of. _

_He was arguing with me for days. _

_"I want a girl, Waldorf," he growled the second I told him. Like it was the Victorian era and women were still supposedly responsible for the every detail of the offspring. Typical male._

_So I responded with proper hauteur, "I can't power the possible femininity of the child, Chuck. And why a girl, anyway?" _

_Who knew he was one for girls?_

_And his face grew dark. "I'm not very good with children. I want don't a boy and me to have the same mess my father and I had. I'm…better with girls," _

That's_ true. Ever since Serena's little girl has been born, she won't leave Chuck alone. The toddler follows him _everywhere_ whenever__ Serena visits and naturally become so involved in conversation with me that doesn't realize when her own child wanders off._

_Her baby has practically developed a _gift_ for evading her. And she's exceptionally good at finding Chuck. Many a time he's been in his study and she sneaks in without his noticing, crawls up to his feet under his desk, drools all over his shoes and seizes his foot. He yelps like a frightened puppy every time she does it and thrashes- fully convinced that some foul animal is climbing all over his body. Then he peaks a glance under the desk…somewhat calms down….in fact Dorota tells me he even talks to the little girl, explaining seriously that she must evade her Mommy all she likes but not bother him as she does it. Of course Serena's daughter never listens and he eventually puts her on his lap and continues his work (I have GOT to see this.) Then Serena wails for her lost child and he whispers the baby goodbye and yells at one of the servants to take her back. Honestly, if it wasn't for Dorota- ace investigator- I'd have never known!)_

_"I want a daughter," Chuck told me seriously. "I want a mini-Blair whom I can spoil and tease and make a fuss of. Boy's become soft when you do that to them. Girls are meant to be coddled. I want a miniature version of you, Blair."_

_And that warmed me enough to kiss him a some more. _

_Look at him, the whipped idiot- as he sits on the settee and coos to the sleeping baby in whispers….at one a.m no less. I've never seen that look on Chuck's face. I don't really believe I'm looking at Chuck at all. Aw. See how he brushes a feather light kiss on her soft forehead. _

_He will hang the moon by Cherie's crib, drape her name amongst the stars and flood her life with such sunshine that she will the most loved and privileged princess in all of the Upper East Side. Chuck is not his father. He will never ignore our children for work. He will never let them be tainted as we were, because of our twisted homes. He will never let himself down. He will never let me down._

_I told him he had nothing to be afraid of._

_-_BW

* * *

**-Was that good? Does it make an intriguing story? I have no idea. Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: You Broke My Heart**

**Summary: ****As a teenager Chuck Bass was feral, heartless and immoral. But then he met Blair Waldorf and softened. When Chuck and Blair in the future have children- you'd expect Chuck Bass to be a doting father- Because we know he has an amazing heart. Then why is Chuck so cruel to their son?**

**Disclaimer: Sigh. Pains me to say but I don't own them.**

**A/N: I might not have continued with this story of it wasn't for you guys! The idea's been there forever but I wasn't sure if it could have been pulled off. Now, I'm hopeful! As for those who wonder if Blair may not have much to do in this story- just remember there's a reason she's one of the main characters!**

…_  
If you have never been hated by your child you have never been a parent. _

_-Bette Davis_

…_.  
_

Charles Bass left his suite the next the day, looking nonchalantly suave in a charcoal gray business suit.

As he walked down to breakfast, something abruptly flooded into his mind and he groaned quietly.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn-

"Hey Dad," the young boy smirked ironically at him.

He was an extraordinarily striking boy. The kind of boy that had made every nurse, doctor and family member in the vicinity quite truthfully declare him a beautiful baby at birth. His hair was dark and wavy, almost curling like his mother's. His eyes were a smoky grey his grandfather Bart would have proudly pointed out as his own. For a seven year old, he was fairly tall. The sharp planes of his face made one think of his father.

But utterly everything else, from the soft cream of his skin tone, the laughter of his eyes, the color and texture of his hair and the built of his aquiline features reminded the world of his mother.

Blair. Whenever Chuck saw the boy all he saw was Blair.

For that matter whenever he saw little Cherie he saw Blair all the more.

But it didn't hurt. Seeing her alive in their beautiful faces didn't hurt.

No. What hurt was-

Chuck closed his eyes.

"Lucien," he acknowledged abstractedly.

The child grimaced. "Liam," he corrected as was his custom.

No, it was Lucien. That was what Chuck had named the boy. Lucien Bartholomew Bass.

"Lucien _William _Bartholomew Bass," the child corrected. "After Grandfather Harold William Waldorf-"

"Fine," Charles ground out. He clutched the case a little more tightly than he had to and asked with precision, "Where's your sister?"

Lucien shrugged. He wouldn't meet his father's gaze but in the dark grey eyes there was accusation. "Upstairs. Probably crying her eyes out."

When Charles went pale Lucien looked at his father crossly and stated. "You were supposed to tuck her in last night."

He had just remembered.

"I forgot."

The boy smiled resentfully. "You forgot."

Charles wondered why no one in the world could make him feel guilty anymore; why nothing in the universe touched him, but a cutting glance from this young boy and an unhappy cry from the even younger girl stopped his whole world.

Charles glanced at his watch to avoid looking at the blatantly reproachful grey eyes. "She has to leave for kindergarten soon."

Lucien glanced at the staircase. "She knows."

There was a smatter of youthful footsteps and a familiarly girlish scream. "Ophelia! My headband!"

Charles found himself smiling unconsciously at her so truly inherent demanding tone.

"Coming Miss Cherie!"

"And my scarf!"

"Right here, Miss Cherie!"

"Ophelia, why are you in my way?"

"Sorry Miss Cherie!"

And there was a gentle thunder over their heads as the little girl scampered down the stairs, carrying a snowy, fluffy bundle of a kitten in her arms. She saw her brother first and smiled delightedly for she adored him and he was incessantly protective of her. Then she saw her father standing in the marbled dinning hall and froze.

In an instant Cherie's soft brown eyes pooled with misery, then darkened with anger and then finally became uncaring with disinterest.

She marched towards the breakfast table, her head held high, and her eyes pointedly ignoring her slightly guilt-stricken father. She clambered onto her seat with utmost elegance and gracefully selected herself a blueberry bun.

Charles thought of how adorable she looked with her thick, chestnut curls held back by her headband, the colorful scarf draped across her shoulders, the white kitten cuddled in her arms, the crimson pout to her face as she plucked out the blueberries.

"Good morning Liam," she said, defiantly disregarding her father.

"Good morning Cher," her elder brother replied, amused at the little panorama before him.

For a moment Charles watched his daughter with admiration, inspecting the refinement with which she ate her breakfast, at how neatly she kept her elbows off the table, at how she sat, astonishingly poised for a four year old. Blair was there in her every move yet the child had barely known her mother.

Cherie gently placed the kitten on her lap with small hands and the animal meowed happily.

Charles cleared his throat. "Er- good morning Cherie."

She replied in a small, distant voice. "Good morning."

Charles thought about it for a moment then sat down besides her. "Sweetie, I'm sorry."

No response.

"I…I got so wrapped in my work-"

She turned her small, curling dark head away. The kitten meowed reproachfully at Chuck.

But Charles had seen her eyes and he swallowed when he noticed that they were somewhat red. So she _had_ cried herself to sleep.

He was a monster.

In that moment Charles Bass felt utterly and unbelievably hateful. More than that… he felt like a beast. He remembered the first time he had held Cherie; the first time he had realized what it felt like to be ferociously loving, ceaselessly possessive and frantically protective of something all at once. It was the overwhelming, incredible sensation of fathering a daughter.

He had waited for her for years and when the blessing had come he had sworn to himself that he would be worth it. If you weren't worth a blessing, it was taken away.

How well he knew that.

It was actually shocking how far he had come from that promise. It was unnerving to realize how far behind he had left that day.

He had sworn to himself that she would never be anything less than completely happy. And now because of him, she was entirely miserable.

Yet strong in her heartache, like her mother. Unwilling to be anything less than perfect, just like her mother.

Was he building a wall between himself and his daughter just like Bart had built one between himself and Chuck?

Somehow the thought of the rest of the world didn't concern him that much. They were used to his cold demeanor, they feared it; they respected it.

The idea of Lucien barely bothered him. The boy was tough and responsible and had a strangely kind heart. Lucien had learnt to live with his stoic father and not be too sad about it.

But this small, lonely four year old girl whom he had wanted to cherish so badly…was a different story.

Chuck refused to let his mind wander anywhere else.

He reached a hand…a hand that seemed too large and powerful for the task… to turn her tiny face to face him. She looked into his eyes and whatever she saw must have disappointed her for she looked away.

"I'll take you to school today," Charles offered, in a hopeful, bright voice.

He so very rarely did that. He hadn't done so in months. He would be skipping out on a meeting because of it but in that one desperate moment he didn't care.

To his shock, she politely murmured. "Thank you, Daddy. But it's quite alright."

It had happened. The child he had pushed away had now learnt to push back.

Charles frowned. "But-"

"She said it's alright," Lucien retorted in a defensive tone. The kitten hissed.

Charles glared at Lucien for a moment before realizing he was glaring straight into his father's eyes and then blinked rapidly.

He turned to glare at the ungrateful animal. Even the damn kitten was against him.

He turned to Cherie.

"But Cherie, it will be fun. Don't you want Daddy to take you to school? You used to love it."

She gave him a look, a look that said that it wasn't enough, that she wouldn't forgive him that easily.

"No thank you, daddy."

Charles was now starting to get irritated. He was making an exceptional effort here. Why was she so difficult to placate? Why did she always get on his nerves? She was such a stubborn little thing. Just- Just like-

Just like her mother.

"But-"

"Why do I keep on having to repeat her? She _said_ no," Lucien snapped, fearlessly meeting his father's glare.

Charles would have yelled at the boy, grounded him for a week and punished him as the brat so truly deserved. But his daughter was sitting right there, already unhappy with him. The boy was exasperatingly smart. He misbehaved when he knew his father couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Charles took a deep, calming breath.

"Princess, let me make it up to you. We'll-uh- we'll-" he racked his brain for her favorite foods. "We'll buy a piece of pumpkin pie and some cream puffs on the way."

For one moment the child's eyes lit up. But then she frowned. "But Artie's unhappy too. You didn't tuck him in either."

Charles hid his hard fists under the table and said almost pleadingly, "Cherish, please-"

She glared at him, then hoped off the chair and turned to her au pair. "Ophelia, its half past seven. Aren't they here yet?"

Right on cue, a breathless Dorota emerged into the living room. "Miss Chereesh, your Aunty Serena and Miss Ashley here to pick you up."

Cherie's whole face brightened and she ran out of the living room into the main hall. The kitten playfully bounced after her.

"Ash!"

"C!"

There was a moment of excited squealing before Aunty Serena tried to calm the chaos down.

"Shush, you guys, do you want Chuck to throw a fit at all the noise?"

Charles colored ashamedly at Serena's words and quietly entered the hall, onto the touching scene.

"Aunty Serena!"

"Cherie!"

The little girl ran to her Aunt and hugged her so warmly one would think she was searching for her own mother in the embrace. Which perhaps she was.

And Cherie beamed in her Aunts arms, and then fidgeted until Serena laughed and set her down so she could greet her best friend.

"You cut your hair!"

"You're headband is so sweet!"

"Did you see my scarf? Daddy had one identical to it in school. Liam has one just like it. And one day Artie-"

Serena grinned at the chattering girls before she spotted Chuck looking uncomfortable, standing at the end of hallway.

For a moment, Serena was taken aback. She hadn't seen Chuck in weeks. He kept to himself so fittingly and spoke to any one of them so rarely that she had forgotten what it was like to have him as a friend, as a brother.

She looked at him and saw what she always saw now. That he wasn't her Chuck anymore and would perhaps never again be. That the boy with the mischievous glint in his eye and the wicked humor at his disposal was long gone and all that was left was an imposter.

She felt a stab of sadness in her heart for if Blair would have seen him now, she would have hated him. Perhaps almost as much as he hated her.

Serena offered him a half smile. "Chuck."

She felt as though he almost looked behind him to see if she was talking to someone else, as though he couldn't quite remember who Chuck Bass was or if it had ever been him.

Then realization dawned on his features. "S."

She hesitated then walked up to him, leaving the little ones talking nineteen to the dozen. She reached out to touch his shoulder for she wanted to believe he was real, wanted to feel as though she wasn't talking to a stranger.

"Cherie's unhappy," it was he who said it and he sounded bleak.

"Why?" Serena asked unswervingly.

Chuck glared at the floor. "The…the"

And she knew. When he said it like that she knew. She knew what he was talking about; she understood what was coming between him and Cherish.

"Chuck." Serena tried to control her anger. "She's not a baby anymore. She will ask questions."

"But I can't give her the right answers."

"That doesn't mean you can hide the truth forever."

Chuck let out a fierce, shaky breathe. "The truth will kill her, Serena."

"It isn't-"

"Do you think she's ready?" he demanded. "Do you think she's old enough to handle it now?"

"No," Serena agreed. "But how do you think it affects her- thinking you hate her brother? She's such a loving little thing, Chuck. She loves you all so much. How can she understand a father hating his own child? If she were a spoilt brat, she might have been delighted at having all your attention. But she's not _you_. She's not Blair. She's Cherie. She isn't a bit like you _or_ Blair…not in that sense. She has all your obstinacy, all of Blair's spontaneity, all of your insightfulness and all of Blair's temper. But her heart...it's far too emotional, far too caring. It hurts her deeply to have you take no notice of her brother. She can't recognize you anymore," Serena looked away indignantly, "_I_ can't recognize you anymore."

Chuck stared at her, irate. "So, what am I supposed to do about all of that?"

"Here's a thought," Lucien Bartholomew Bass put in dryly, shrugging into his backup as walked up to his father and Aunt. "Next time she comes to greet you, don't send her away by conveniently making promises you_ know_ you can't keep."

…

…..

"I'm telling you Batman is cooler than Hulk," Liam argued with his little sister. "Hulk is just clumsy and green."

"Batman has no super powers," Cherie argued. "Hulk has super strength!"

"Batman has the bat mobile!" Liam retorted.

"Yeah, but Hulk fights against the government and didn't chose to be a monster," Ashley Archibald put in.

"So?"

"So, hello- the ones who are really great had greatness thrust upon them-"

"That's from Shakespeare, smarty pants- and you're quoting him all wrong-"

Ashley suddenly froze and nudged at Cherie who was still quarrelling good naturedly with her beloved brother.

"Hey- isn't that Uncle Chuck?" she pointed to the still figure, clad impeccably in his suit and leaning casually against the limo outside the school gates.

Little Cherie actually rubbed her eyes before she was ready to believe that it was her father.

"Daddy?" she whispered uncertainly.

Her brother noticed her hesitation and gave her a gentle push. "He probably wants to talk to you," he said encouragingly. "You should go."

Cherie suddenly looked tearful. "But I'm still angry at him."

Lucien sighed. "I know, Cher. But he's trying. Maybe you can try too."

With timid, shaky steps he watched his sister make her way towards her father. A foot away from the gates, Cherie broke into a run.

Ashley Archibald watched her best friend and once-favorite uncle with a frown. "What happened to Uncle Chuck?" she sadly asked Lucien. "He used to be a different person. He…he used to love me."

Lucien watched his little sister run up to their father, his expression unfathomable. "I know. He used to love me too."

…..

_They say that from the instant he lays eyes on her, a father adores his daughter. Whoever she grows up to be, she is always to him that little girl in pigtails. She makes him feel like Christmas. In exchange, he makes a secret promise that even if she outgrows his lap, she can't outgrow his heart._

_-Chuck Bass_

…_.._

She stopped right before him, breathless and cautious.

Charles saw the fear in her eyes and took a deep breath. From behind him he revealed a blossoming bouquet of pale pink peonies.

"I got your favorite flowers."

She stared at them and he showed her a gaily wrapped package. "And your favorite macaroons got delivered straight from Paris."

Cherie stared at the presents and without any warning burst into sudden tears.

In a flash she was in her father's arms.

"I'm so sorry Princess," he told her, his heart breaking as she cried. "I promise I'll never send you away again."

She sniveled and asked miserably, "Why didn't you tuck me in?"

Chuck felt like a troll as she cried into his arms. "Daddy made a mistake. Daddy forgot. I'm sorry, Princess. I'm just so sorry."

"Why did you yell?" she whimpered. "Why do you yell now, Daddy? All the time. All the time…"

"Cherie," Chuck held her tightly. "I won't, I promise I won't, never again-"

"I miss my Daddy," she whispered and his heart lurched because he was standing there, right in front of her. And yet, he was gone.

He pulled back and saw her beautiful face, her eyes dark brown and wet, her brown curls hanging freely over his scarf, held back by a powder blue headband so like her mother's. She was everything he had ever wanted in his daughter. And he had time and time again pushed her away…so that now she longed for him even when he was right there, holding her.

Charles raised his hand to carefully wipe away every precious tear clinging to her long, dark eyelashes.

"C'mon," he whispered. "We're going."

"Where?" his daughter asked him in a hushed tone.

He grinned conspiringly at her. "It's a secret."

To his delight, she giggled and willingly ate it up and he hoped that when he took her to have favorite restaurant 'Gramercy Tavern' for lunch, she would perk up.

"Daddy I'll miss school,"

He shrugged carelessly. "So what? We're taking a father-daughter's day."

She burrowed safely under in his arm, inside the automobile and raised a beautiful, shining face to beam at her father. In that instant she looked exactly like the four year old Blair he remembered.

And Charles smiled and reached down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead, for that factor only made him love her more.

She smiled as her father kissed her forehead, glad that for the moment he was back, that the man with the thunderous voice and angry face had gone away.

The only thing that pained Cherie was the comprehension that he never dropped his mask for anyone else. She was the sole person in the universe for whom Charles Bass made an effort.

This might have delighted a coddled child.

But Cherish Bass only wondered what in the world had gone so terribly wrong.

From the lost Journal of Blair Waldorf

(Three nights after Cherish Cornelia Elizabeth Bass was born)

_Dear Diary, _

_Liam just looked over at his sister and smiled at me._

"_She looks just like you, Mama," he informed me._

_Chuck's lifted him into the air. "Did you see her? Did you see your sister?"_

_Little Ashley is delighted too. It's like she knows her best friend finally has arrived._

_Elizabeth was among the first people to hold her. I'm so glad Chuck has finally forgiven his mother. Ever since the children came, our whole world has blossomed with pure, utter happiness. Who knew one could even be so happy?_

"_She's darling, Blair!" Elizabeth is telling me. "Oh, look, Charles, she has your nose-"_

_Chuck is insisting that it's his mother's nose._

_Serena is jumping around, squealing and hugging anyone in the vicinity. Nate's ecstatic because we just named him godfather. I argued with Chuck for a while before admitting that ever since he had his own little girl, Nate's become a lot more sensible._

_Chuck is holding Cherie once more. He declared that she just smiled at him._

"_It's just gas, Chuck," Lilly notified him laughingly._

_Chuck stubbornly refuses. "It is indeed not," he argues, "my daughter is definitely smiling."_

_He looks so happy. He wasn't even that happy when Liam came around. He looks so…so happy._

_They just took a family photograph. First it was everyone, with Ashley having crawled into Chuck's lap of course, Liam climbing all over his Uncle Nate, Serena flashing her best smile, Elizabeth, Lilly, Rufus, Eric, Mom, Daddy, Cyrus…I was in such a good mood, I even graciously allowed Humphrey into the picture. _

_Now they're taking another shot. This one includes just Chuck, me, Liam and Cherie. I think little Ashley still managed to sneak in. Chuck is holding both her and Cherie and laughing out loud._

_If you look at this picture, you would truly believe that this was a family meant to laugh together forever. If you look at the picture you will truly believe that this was a family meant to be happy._

_I know I did._

-BW

**Any good? Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: You Broke My Heart**

**Summary: As a teenager Chuck Bass was feral, heartless and immoral. Falling in love with Blair Waldorf softened him. When Chuck and Blair in the future have children- you'd expect Chuck to be a doting father- because we know he has an amazing heart. Then why is Chuck so cruel to their son?**

**Disclaimer: Sigh. Pains me to say it but I don't own them.**

**A/N: I honestly never thought I'd get down to writing this story, but it happened after all! It was one of those things you think about but just don't have the guts to do. If you've read this story and liked it- then just know that if it wasn't for you, neither would be this fic! **

**PS: The name Cherie is pronounced Ch-erie.**

….

_I have this memory of my father tickling the hell out of me while my mother shrieks at him to stop. He throws me into the air and catches me again and I am screaming with excitement, laughing crazily. I still have the memory of the adrenalin rush as I flew into the air, just a helpless, defenseless child. I never once doubted that my father would catch me. Maybe that's why I don't remember feeling afraid. This memory stays with me because it is all I have. Proof that there was once a time every ounce of my father's concentration was on me, only on me, as he made sure that I'd never fall._

_Lately I feel as though I could be running before him with Valium in a fist and a dagger in my hand and he still wouldn't notice me in time to catch me before I collapsed._

_-Lucien Bass_

….

He woke up the next morning with a feeling of pure dread. He stared at the Batman calendar fluttering over his head. It was that day today.

_That_ day.

He rolled under his bedspread and buried his face into his pillow.

Usually Lucien loved the crack of dawn. He liked being the first one down to breakfast, heading towards the wafting scent of Dorota's Amaretto pecan pancakes. He liked the early morning ride in the limo and the fun disputes with his little sister and Ashley that carried on right to the St. Jude's Grade school. But today was not one of those days. Lucien dug a fist into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could just keep sleeping…

There was a startling knock on his door. "Liam!"Cherie called out "Wake up!"

…Or not.

"Hurry!" her small voice came urgently through the doors. "Don't you know what day it is today?"

Who was she kidding? Of course he knew.

A part of Lucien just wanted to stay in today. Maybe he could pretend to be sick. Maybe he could fake a stomachache. But he couldn't do that to Cherie, couldn't leave her the horrible burden of solely dealing with their father now.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what this day meant.

Today was the day Charles Bass was going to publicly loose it.

She was too young to understand what was happening; she was still just a baby.

For that matter Lucien knew he was just a kid himself. But circumstances had forced him to mature before time. Part of it had been the condition of being the big brother. And part of it had been the ghastly reality unfolding before his very eyes.

Sometimes he felt Cherie saw it too. Sometimes he felt as though she sensed it- as though she almost guessed it…

But no one the truth. Lucien himself only knew a gist of it.

No one knew except Charles Bass.

Today, Lucien promised himself, today that will change

…_. _

_My mother protected me from the world and my father threatened me with it. _

–_Quentin Crisp, The Naked Civil Servant, 1968_

….

His name was Adrian Charles Bartholomew Bass and they called him Artie.

And he looked just like his father.

He had the same almond shaped, large and playful, cognac brown eyes.

He had the same soft brown hair that appeared anthracite in certain lights.

He had the same pale face chiseled with the sharp planes.

And he had the same exact smile- an impish, charming, crooked smile that ensured you couldn't be angry at him even if you tried.

Chuck Bass mostly smirked. But every female of New York had to agree that the few times it appeared- Chuck's full on grin was heart stopping.

Adrian Bass similarly won the hearts of all his Nannies. They cooed and fussed over him as though he had dropped from paradise. They made excuses to spend more time with him during all hours. He was a delightful little baby, with a gurgling, melodious laugh and shrill, heartbreaking cry. He would throw classic Waldorf/Bass tantrums one instant then becoming a golden hearted angel the next. He prided himself on having an irresistible persona; but when you came right down to it, he was a trusting, lovable little baby.

He was the only one of his siblings who was an absolute splitting image of his father and he was sharp, even for a toddler.

He knew a lot for a four month old.

He knew that when his stomach whined it was a cue for him to let out an angry wail.

He knew that the chubby nanny, with the heavy drawl and warm brown eyes, would be the first to coddle him if he cried.

He knew his favorite toy was the golden Lynx cub his Uncle Nate had gifted him.

He knew that when his sister sang "I love you-you love me,"- a lullaby she had composed and concocted herself, he had to pretend to fall asleep so that she would too.

But what he knew best, better than anything else was the fact that the dark haired man with the unsmiling face absolutely, utterly_ hated _him

Adrian only remembered meeting Chuck once. He had watched the child for a while, with hard, dark eyes.

Then Dorota had said sincerely, "You hold him Meester Chuck-?"-and the man had abruptly straightened up and walked away.

A four month old is said to have the memory span of an earthworm. Yet, Adrian Bass never forgot the way his father had looked at him then- as though if it were allowed he would have strangled the child with bare hands and drowned his corpse into the river.

That one glance from Chuck had been sadistic enough to melt iron.

It had made the infant cry and for a long time, even as Dorota held his shaking form, he couldn't stop.

A four month old can barely speak. Barely sit up straight much less crawl. A four month old rarely thinks ahead of food, sleep, lullabies and the pacifier. Yet this particular four month old honestly wondered for a moment if he was so dirty….so ugly….so foul….because his father's eyes had told him that.

More than that….Adrian had felt scared. The dark haired man was dangerous.

His brother and sister were different though- because they clearly adored him. Lucien would stand over his crib and tickle him mercilessly until Adrian screamed with laughter (with his protective sister squealing at her elder brother to stop). When there was no one around Lucien would even make the funniest faces making the child giggle uncontrollably so that he soon began to look up to his elder brother.

His sister was as gentle as Lucien was mischievous. She brought all her dolls into his crib and climbed inside and played with him for hours. Sometimes she even brought her kitten which happily gamboled all around the crib and over the child, making Adrian squeal excitedly. She taught him games like Peek-a-Boo and Pat-a-Cake and Ooops! The last one was Adrian's favorite for all his building blocks would fall at once and both he and Cherie would scream out loud together.

In the four short months of his life, the child grew to idolize his brother and sister and especially Dorota. There were a tangle of Grandpa's and Grandma's that visited him often and he liked them because they always brought gifts and made a fuss of him. There was Aunty Serena and Uncle Nate whom he loved best because they always seemed a fill an odd, gaping hole in his life he barely knew existed. There was also Uncle Dan who visited less often but the child grew to recognize him and grew fond of him. His very favorite guest was Uncle Eric- because he brought Adrian's favorite tinned prunes. All in all, Adrian decided, it was a nice life.

But he never forgot the dark man that had watched him from the nursery door once and he never forgot that sensation of being loathed, being despised. The man never came to visit again and Adrian was glad.

The man never came again because the child scared him more than he scared the child.

Adrian's life was blissfully oblivious and tranquil until one disastrous day.

It all began when the child first decided to crawl. He was in his playpen, playing with little- pink- rabbit- with- the- drum his Grandpa Rufus had recently gifted him. The rabbit beat the drum and Adrian giggled appreciatively. Then he turned to the purple ball that had once been his brother Lucien's. The child suddenly decided to bounce it. The bright purple ball bounced right out of the playpen. Adrian watched the ball roll away and frowned.

His Nanny was draped dramatically on the armchair, having fallen asleep. Adrian rolled out of his play pen that was luckily unlocked. He dragged his arms over the plush, white carpet and made his way towards the ball.

A brilliant smile lit his face. This was easy…this was glorious! The world slowly moved before him as he made his way around the room following the rolling ball. He reached it and placed a hand but it squeezed out of his grasp and bounced out of the hall.

The toddler blinked. He had never been out of this room before. He liked it here, with the bright sunny walls and the soft, tinkling music and the burrow of stuffed animals in his play chest. But the outside world was a delicious mystery and his purple ball was calling him.

Excitedly Adrian, put in some extra effort and crawled right into the hallway.

It was dark and silent. No one appeared around. Adrian didn't like being alone and he never was. If his new Nanny hadn't fallen asleep on shift, he would have never managed to escape the room he had never left in his life.

The purple ball winked at him from the hallway.

Adrian crawled up to the staircase. The ball rested just before the topmost step. He reached it- and the orb fell down a couple of steps making the child let out a fed-up cry.

He gathered his will and reached out a thin arm to reach for the purple toy just out of his grasp.

Then came out a voice just from behind him, "Wait."

The child was startled. He swayed near the flight of steps, almost falling headfirst in the direction of his arm reaching for his beloved toy.

Just before he dived down the stairs, strong hands came around him, securing around his tiny waist like a cord. Adrian's eyes widened in surprise and he looked around as he was lifted into the air and made to face a pair of disturbingly familiar brown eyes.

_It was Him._

Adrian's mouth formed a round, pink O. His eyes were wide as he froze into the arms of the stranger that had never once touched him before.

Chuck Bass looked at the child for a moment as though he could not understand how in the world this moment had come. He really had never touched this child before.

Never.

It had been entirely an involuntary action. The natural, spontaneous reaction that came if one saw an infant about to clearly fall down the stairs.

He held the child far away from the body as though one held something that smelt badly. He held him with hands that seemed to be shaking violently.

Charles's hands were shaking so violently that the whole child was vibrating. If he held on for a moment longer he was in danger of dropping the child.

Adrian eyed his rescuer with bright, thoughtful eyes.

Charles glanced at the purple ball the child had been after. The ball Chuck had bought for Lucien a long time ago. Blair had been with him. They had picked the ball together and cheered when baby Lucien learnt to play catch with it.

The memory engulfed Charles until the shock wore off and he just realized exactly _what_ he was holding.

He eyed the creature distastefully before carrying him off to the room just a few feet away.

The sight of Charles giving the child ample space as he held him as far as possible from his own body was almost comical unless one looked at Charles's face and the suppressed pain in it.

Adrian tilted his head and observed Chuck curiously.

They walked away from the staircase but child let out an angry cry and reached out vainly for the ball.

Charles sighed and bent down to pick it up, securing the child closer towards him. Adrian loved the closeness and curled an arm around Charles's neck. Charles went pale and walked down the hallway as fast as he could.

He entered the sunny room and gave the sleeping nanny a disgusted glance. Then he unceremoniously dumped the child into the cot.

Adrian kicked back a leg and gave Charles a startlingly memorable smile. Chuck's smile.

Chuck blinked. Then he blinked again.

Had the child just…crawled all the way there?

Charles gave him a look of disbelief. He was too young to edge along wasn't he? Lucien and Cherie hadn't starting crawling until a lot later.

He looked at the child suspiciously and then roared at the Nanny, "You! Listen!"

He could never keep the names of all these damn Nannies straight.

The woman jerked up with a start. She looked at Charles as though she was dreaming. She looked around the room, the cradle, the giggling toddler and then at Charles.

She placed a shaking hand to her heart and whispered, "Mr.…Mr. Bass?"

She sounded as though she was speaking to a ghost. As though she would have never expected Charles Bass to enter this room even if his life depended on it.

Charles yelled at the incompetent woman for a while. She jerked out of her trance and looked at little Adrian in shock who had apparently crawled around the whole house.

"But he can't crawl, Mr. Bass," she stuttered, finally recovering from her shock somewhat. "He's just a-"

"Well he did and can!" snapped Charles. "And you're fired do you hear me? Fired!"

He stormed out of the room to find Dorota.

And the Nanny stared at the toddler who was now giving her a slightly guilty expression.

Then she stared at the back of Charles Bass and decided the man was not only ruthless but delusional.

….

And little Adrian just scratched his head and kissed his favorite ball and wondered why the dark eyed man had left so soon. If he'd stayed Adrian would have jargoned him thank you.

….

Ashley Archibald frowned into the cell phone she still wasn't used to carrying.

"Liam?"

He sighed. "Don't start."

"I only wanted to say," Ashley chose her words carefully. "Good luck for today."

Lucien's voice came over the airwaves, weary and cheerless. "He's going to kill me."

Ashley anxiously peered at the phone. "But you're still going to do it, right?"

Lucien looked at his happy, little sister ordering Ophelia about.

"I have to," he said, his eyes soft as he watched her. "I have to. Or I'll never forgive myself."

"You're doing the right thing," Ashley told him firmly.

"Well," Lucien watched as Cherie popped a balloon and laughed out loud. "I try."

….

…

Nathaniel Archibald entered the study of Charles's Bass and knocked tentatively.

Chuck whirled around and faced Nate, white faced and gasping.

Nate stared at him.

"You okay?"

"Nathaniel," Chuck rasped, gripping his seat very hard. "What brings you here?"

"Do you know what day it is today?"

Chuck gave him a tortured smile, "How could I forget?"

Nate strode into the study and stared at his friend carefully. "You know what you have to do, Chuck."

Chuck Bass let out a bitter laugh. "No," he said. "I don't."

He plunged his hands deeply into the pockets of his chinos and breathed slowly apparently coming under control

Nate looked at Chuck and the sight just saddened him.

Maybe it's because Chuck looked sad. Sad and thin. He wasn't the robust womanizer Nate knew from almost a decade ago. Nate searched for the teenage boy with the ever ready smirk and laughing brown eyes but he couldn't find that boy anywhere. The Chuck Nate had known had been obnoxious- but hilarious.

That Chuck had gone leaving behind a broken shell of the man Nate could not connect with.

"Chuck," Nate said, "Please. For Blair."

Chuck let out a sharp breath. He met his friend's gaze with wide, livid eyes. "The thing is Nathaniel," he snarled. "Blair can go to hell."

And he walked out leaving Nate staring behind him.

…_.._

_I miss my mother. I miss her so much that it's a constant ache in my stomach. I could tear through the world for her. But my father _salivates_ for my mother. I never thought it was possible to love and someone too much but maybe it is. I hate what my father has become, what his love has made him._

_And you know what? I think he hates it too._

_-Lucien Bass_

…

"Chuck-"

"She left me!" Charles hollered at his friend. "She left me in this mess!"

"Chuck-"

"What am I supposed to do? Clean up after her? How do I do that? I hate her, Nathaniel. I hate-"

"Don't say that-"

"_Then what do I say?"_ roared Chuck. "She- she and that- that-"

Chuck took a deep breath and reached to open the huge doors before him.

"Look, can we not do this now? My daughter called me here and I don't want to loose it in front of her. As it is, this has been a really bad day."

He walked into the dining room and was immediately jumped upon by the little girl running up to him. He could not have imagined the spectacle that was waiting for him within.

Cherie hugged his legs then looked up, meeting his gaze with a delighted smile, "Daddy! You came!"

Charles smiled down at her, "Of course I did, Princess. You call, I come. But what was the rush?"

Cherie beamed and pulled him into the beautifully lit room, filled with streamers, dripping candles and glittering balloons.

"I got everything ready!" Cherie exclaimed excitedly. She turned to her brother that was idly lounging by the wall. "Didn't we get everything ready, Liam?"

Lucien gave her an uncommon smile and nodded.

Charles frowned. "Ready….for what?"

"For Mommy!" Cherie cried. "You told me she was coming today!"

Chuck Bass transformed to stone.

Nate looked at Cherie anxiously. "When did daddy say that, honey?"

"Months ago!" replied Cherie. "Daddy said Mommy would come home for her birthday. It's her birthday today! When is she coming, daddy?"

Chuck stared at the little girl in horror.

Nate looked at Chuck sadly. "Why haven't you told her?"

Cherie blinked innocently. "Tell me what? Wasn't Mommy coming home today, daddy? You said so. Remember?"

"Why would you say that?" Nate demanded.

"I- was indisposed with grief!"Chuck hissed. "I can't even remember-"

"Isn't Mommy coming?" Cherie's lower lip trembled. "I waited like a good little girl Daddy."

Months. She had waited for months.

Nate knelt down to her level. "Cherie, honey, Mommy can't come home."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Why?"

Lucien strode over to his father. "Why don't you tell her, Dad?"

Chuck took a deep breath. "Princess, Mommy's still on a trip-"

"Why don't you tell her the _truth,_ Dad?" Lucien interrupted, staring at his father with cold gray eyes. Bart's eyes.

Chuck took a shuddering breath. "Cherie, go to your room."

Cherie whimpered. "But-"

Nate looked worried. "Chuck-"

"Go to your room now!"

"No."

It was Lucien who said it and Lucien who placed a hard hand on his sister's tiny shoulder, halting her in place.

Lucien met his father's gaze with remarkable steadiness. "Tell her the truth." He said.

Chuck looked ready to strike the boy.

"Tell her the real reason why she can't meet her mother. Tell her the real reason our mother is gone. Tell her why our mother is never coming back."

"_Go to your room!"_

"_Tell her!"_ Lucien Bass yelled pulling down the streamers that declared "Happy Birthday Mommy!" in colorful cursive so that the whole display came down in a crumpled mess at his feet. "_Or I will!"_

…..

From the Diary of Lucien William Bartholomew Bass

_Dear Stupid Diary_

_I loved my father. But just like him, I made the crucial mistake. I always loved my mother more. _

_This is why, I did what I did today._

_Cherie has to know the truth. She can't wait for our mother forever and Mom would not have wanted this._

_Mom used to tell me I was her halo of happiness._

_But I'm just a mess._

_My parents named me Lucien because they said I filled their lives with light. But they should have been more specific. _

_They should have told me how._

_-LB_

…..

**Boy, my fingers are tired. As always let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: You Broke My Heart**

**Summary: As a teenager Chuck Bass was feral, heartless and immoral. But then he met Blair Waldorf and softened. When Chuck and Blair in the future have children- you'd expect Chuck Bass to be a doting father- Because we know he has an amazing heart. Then why is Chuck so cruel to their son?**

**Disclaimer: Sigh. Pains me to say but I don't own them.**

**A/N: First of all, my apologies- It's been a while since my last update. Usually I'm pretty quick at updating but been swamped with aptitude tests lately so this fanfic's become a guilty pleasure. And I haven't updated 'Damn you Chuck Bass, Damn you to Hell," since forever! So this chapter is longer than my usual ones to make up for the long wait. And a heartfelt thanks to my wonderful reviewers without whom this fic could have never been!**

….

_I was seven when my father stopped loving me. Just seven. Sometimes I think that was the day I left my childhood behind. That was the day I became a teenager. Grandma Lilly always says I grew up too fast. Truth is I had to because my father had no patience for a child_

_-Lucien Bass_

It was Nate Archibald who broke the silence.

"Chuck…"

But he could not face his best friend, could not voice the reality he wanted so badly to run away from. He hated that truth, the truth of his life, the life that was ruined because the authenticity of that truth. And he wanted to kill Nathaniel for the prodding, kill Lucien for bringing it up.

But there was no way out now.

For she would ask. She would always ask now, ask until he broke, ask until he was empty of lies and unable to avoid her.

She stared up at him, winded, her tiny fingers clinging onto the folds of his knees, an unlit birthday candle in one minuscule fist, a magic splash of gold spray glowing on her cheek.

Chuck reached out to touch her but shrugged him away.

For the first time he saw accusation in her eyes, as she silently demanded to know where he had spirited her mother away.

"Cherie…"

Her hold on the folds tightened, bound to leave angry creases on his chinos.

Chuck closed his eyes knowing he would never forgive himself for the words he was going to say. How do you tell a child that the world she woke up in yesterday is not the one she woke up in today?

How do you describe atrocities that aren't supposed to exist?

He stared at her eyes…sparkling brown and _so_ engaging that they melted the snootiest inhabitants of the UES to a puddle of goo as they fussed and coddled the baby girl in hope that she gift them a dimpled smile.

What he would say would have the horrific consequences of erasing that smile.

Charles's voice did not sound like his own as the words left him.

For a long, long moment Cherish Bass only listened. She watched her father for an age and he looked straight into her beautiful irises until he could fool himself over who he was talking to.

Then her breath seemed to betray her. Those eyes dilated, her lips shook and trembled. She stared at Chuck, the tiny angel of his world. Her face crumpled.

The knot of her fingers grasping the folds of his chinos painfully tightened until the grip weakened and her hands fell to her sides in a daze.

In a flash, she was gone.

"Cherie!"

He made to catch her but she dashed past them all, pushed by her brother, pushed past her Uncle Nate, danced out her father's grasp. She was a lithe, nimble, quick little thing as she had always been. Light on her feet- lightning fast. She was gone in a scarlet blur- just as Chuck could not help but think- like Blair.

Her brother watched after her and for the first time, Lucien's face cracked. The hardness of his eyes died; he looked much less like Bart and remarkably like a male version of Blair in an instant.

He could hear her fierce footsteps thundering over the staircase, over their heads. A pause, a slam and then eerie silence.

Charles sank into the plush, leather couch, not feeling Nate's supporting hand on his shoulder, not seeing the blackness of the world blinded by his palms, not seeing anything except the eyes that _were_ his world, the _only_ place he saw those eyes anymore were in her face.

They still stared at him, accusing and desperate and forever unforgiving.

…

Lucien rapped on his sister's door.

"Cher?"

Silence.

"Open the door."

He couldn't hear anything…not a whisper, not a whimper.

"Open the door, Cher."

He did feel horrible in that instant. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe she would have been better off never knowing.

"Cherie, open up, okay?"

But she wouldn't open so he gestured to Ophelia who rushed forward with the master key.

Lucien cracked open the door and his gaze widened when he saw his sister.

She was sitting in the corner of the room, hugging her stuffed bambie and staring ahead. She was not crying. She was just…quiet.

Lucien crouched before her, watching her anxiously.

"Cher?"

And for a moment she looked at him. He met her gaze and found nothing. For a moment he couldn't find her.

But then without any warning, she suddenly brought her thin arms around him.

He sat there shocked, as his little sister hugged him as though trying to soothe away the pain she now knew he had been suffering since forever.

….

_I began to think that maybe he hated me. But then I realized it wasn't that. My father didn't hate me. He had just loved my mother too much. So much that he would rather have lost anyone else... but her._

_-Lucien Bass_

….

Chuck paced in the living room, furious.

"What have I done?"

Nate looked unhappy. "What you had to do."

"No," Chuck snarled. "It was the boy. He made me."

"He only did what you should have done a long time ago, Chuck."

"Whatever for? The welcome accomplishments of today?"

Nate gestured towards the doors. "Go to her. She needs you."

Chuck paused, looking terrified. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"How do I save her," Chuck asked. "When I can't save myself?"

…..

Cherish Bass stood at the nursery door staring at the strange phenomenon with unfathomable eyes. She stood there, so still and so quietly that Adrian finally noticed her and sat up in the crib, curving his beautiful bow of a mouth into a dimpled smile.

It was quite staggering that for the first time his sister did not smile back.

Adrian paused for a moment, thrown off, before inspiration struck and he picked up the purple ball still in his crib. He held it out to Cherie, a gift. A very generous endowment.

He was convinced that this would make her smile.

But all she did was stand there.

The toddler babbled at her encouragingly, still holding out the ball. He promised not to scream if she took it. He queried if they could play now- as was their hourly routine of the day, he wondered why she was late.

She stared at him and then she stared at the ball and then she inched near as though she wanted to say or do something very badly- as though she was on the verge of detonation.

Adrian waited for her good-naturedly, the ball still patiently held out.

But all she did was whirl around and go away in a blinding rush reminding Adrian forcefully of the dark eyed man.

He didn't realize in that instant that this was the last time he'd see his sister for a long time.

….

Lucien Bass had the combined sharpness of both his father _and_ his mother. This was why he was the first to notice. It had occurred to him the moment he had knocked on Cherie's door and she had not answered, it had occurred to him when she had stared at him with agelessly mature eyes as though her childhood had died behind her.

It had occurred to him when she had hugged him, reminding him powerfully of the last time he had been hugged by their mother.

Lucien's first test was to offer to take his little sister to play with Artie. But she became immobile at the words, merely hardened stone and gave him a look of such vehement betrayal that he gave up the idea.

In all honesty he was surprised. _He_ had known the truth a long time ago but had dealt with it, overcome it. And Cherie had a heart by far warmer and kinder than his. He knew his little sister inside out. He had expected Cherie's tender heart win over her pain, somehow he had expected her to bounce back.

She was Cherie after all- she was a bright bubble of golden laughter. She didn't brood and glower like her elder brother did; she loved with all the simplicity of what she felt and walked in alignment with the direction of the wind. But perhaps his arrogance was his strength so his little sister's innocence was her flaw.

Lucien had learnt a long time ago not to let the world hurt him but he had been protecting Cherie for so long that he had forgotten that this time the key to protect her had been to hurt her worse than she had ever been hurt. In all his desire to bring her into the real world, he had brought her world crashing down.

Lucien was scared- an emotion he could honestly say he very rarely underwent. He scrutinized his sister with all the intricacy of an analyst. He offered to play her favorite games, ordered Dorota to prepare her favorite meals, even offered to participate in her tea-party with her- something only Adrian ever put up with and never him. But her oyster stuffing and pumpkin pie were sent back untouched and she shook her head at everything else. All she did was hug her Bambie, looking like a glass doll capable of breaking into a million pieces.

So Lucien did the only thing he knew will bring the curtain down.

Hating himself as he did it, prepared for the looming explosion Lucien ripped the baby deer out of his sister's grasp. The old Cherie would have exploded. The old Cherie would have killed him. This one only lets out a shattered breath, a puff of air left her and she reached out vainly for her favorite toy in the world.

That's when Lucien knew.

And the realization was like a rip through his heart.

He gently gave his sister the bambie, which Cherie hugged to her chest, all the time eyeing him contemptuously.

And then he ran for his father.

….

It had been a week and Cherie still was not speaking. She roamed in the house, as silent as a shadow, the kitten at her heels making more noise than her.

Her father had lost her mind at the revelation.

Charles tried everything from picking his princess up and ordering the doctor to examine her, to struggling to coax her to speak himself. Dr. Martin said that Cherie was experiencing Somatoform disorder- which left her mute without any physical cause.

"It will go away," the doctor assured, "As soon as the shock wears off."

But Chuck is still in shock over the fact that months ago_ Blair_ would have been here, holding their daughter and fighting tearfully with the doctor over all his clumsy evaluations and that today he somehow he still looks at the door, expecting her to burst in.

But there is nothing.

Chuck is still in shock over the fact that his beautiful little world has broken and is _still_ breaking beyond belief.

Shock can last forever.

Charles had not been to his office in exactly a week. His work was now forgotten, all summits and seminars cancelled. He went from begging Cherie to speak, to rebuking her, snapping at her, to pleading with her again.

He would know Cherie's voice anywhere. Fluty and melodic and bubbled, sometimes he wished he could trap it so when he was alone and drowned in his work, more alone than anyone in the world, all he had to do was twitch it unlocked like a music box and have her words lead him safely back to soft oblivion.

The first words he had said to Lucien were, "Did you call them?"

And the boy just nodded wordlessly so Charles knew that help was on its way. They may not be much. But she loved them. And if anyone could help bring her back then they could.

Cherie just looked at Ashley Archibald while Charles watched from the dark shadows outside her door.

Ashley smiled with her usual natural warmth at her best friend.

"C?"

Cherie didn't frown. But she didn't smile either.

"You missed school. Ms. Fletcher was asking about you. Plus, I know of someone who misses you…"

Ashley moved out of the way to reveal the boy standing behind her. He was slightly shorter, younger than her but had the same crystal blue eyes and dark blonde hair a shade darker than Ashley's.

For the first time in a week, a small light glowed in Cherie Bass's eyes.

"Hey C," Christopher Archibald greeted brightly plopping down before her. "It's been long enough. I missed you."

Charles let out a breath of relief as a tiny smile tugged at his daughter's beautiful face. It wasn't much but it was a start- the first smile that had graced her lips since Blair's birthday. He knew calling the kids over would do the trick. He knew calling _him _over would do the trick as much as he hated to admit it.

He watched as Cherie cheered up a bit as she, Ashley, Chris and Lucien settled down the playroom floor and scattered Cherie's many playthings around them. As Ashley began giggling with her friend over the Barbie's the boys simultaneously groaned.

"For God sake's Cher, not again."

"Let's play Transformers!"

"G. I Joe's! Awesome!"

"Let's play Cat and Mouse!"

"I can't believe you got these WWE action figures, these are collector's items you know-"

"But um," Lucien looked pointedly at his little sister, "If Cherie wants to play Fashion Week than full speed ahead."

Cherie just rolled her eyes and dug into the shelves stuffed with toys. She came back with the Incredible Hulk Kicking Deluxe Action Figure and a collection of military men and General Ross. Ashley cheered, Chris laughed and Lucien sighed but was inwardly delighted. Cherie _loved _the Hulk, _God_ knew why. If she was demanding to play with her favorite superhero slash monster then she was on the road to recovery.

Charles watched happily as the children played with the silly dolls- Hulk literally smashed General Ross with an incensed foot and Iron Man Repulsor Power Figure blasted off. Hasbro's Star Wars and Transformers collection and "Cube Dude" of Buzz Lightyear- all that Lucien had gotten from Comic-con that year held their interests until Ashley tugged out the humongous rainbow Parachute from the toy chest and demanded to play Cat and Mouse already.

Charles watched his daughter carefully. Her face was aglow and she seemed a lot happier than she had all week. But all this time she had not uttered a single word, not laughed at all but merely smiled beatifically. It was credit to her best friends and brother who were smart enough to figure out the meaning behind the silence, entertain Cherie in all the secret ways only they knew of and cheer her up miraculously for the day.

For the first time the presence of Chris Archibald did not irritate Charles.

He watched as Cherie peeked out of the Parachute, her face alight with silent laughter, her cheeks rosy golden. Chris who was the 'Cat' jumped at Cherie with a roar. They fell into a heap of triumphant and soundless giggles.

Charles did not even mind as he found Cherie and Chris's hand intertwined within the brilliant stripes of scarlet, navy and sunlight.

…

As her friends left Cherie felt sad. She wanted to cling onto Ashley and Chris as they made their way towards the doors. Ashley would have spent the night but she had to visit her Grandma Cece tonight. She turned to Chris in hope that he would understand. She was lonely, heartbroken, afraid. He had to see that, understand that.

But he did not understand because he knew her tantrums, her outbursts, her humor but not her silence.

Cherie wished she could say the words out loud. But words were as hard and biting as stones suddenly. Every time she tried to speak, a horrid rock got stuck in her throat, making Cherie choke and throttle and speechless. She could see her father's soft brown eyes _begging _for her to say anything, a whisper, a word. But she can't say anything not even when Chris waves her goodbye.

He was gone before she had a chance to try. Chris was like the story book Prince having come to life- such uncanny was the resemblance. In the fairy tales when Ariel lost her voice, Eric loved her still, so would he?

She wondered if this was what Ariel felt like when she tried to tell Eric her secrets but found nothing but silence lodged in her voice box.

She wondered if Ursula the sea witch, was responsible for this- if Daddy would have to dive under the sea to find the bottle holding Cherie's lost voice.

She wondered that if she was quiet for long enough, her mother would come to fuss over her one last time.

…

_The day I lost my mother I realized that my father and I, we're exactly alike. He hides his pain by lashing out at the world; I hide myself by lashing out my pain. Maybe if I would've loved someone that much her loss would have made me hate everybody too. Except the miniature version of her.…._

_-Lucien Bass_

Cherie stared at the clear, fluid world above her head, a dark tress spinning around her like seaweed. She wondered what it would be like to lie underwater forever. She could be like the little Mermaid. Lost voice, no mother, a desire to flee the home she knew.  
She thought living under the sea, she thought about conversing with sea horses and dolphins. She thought about _being_ a dolphin. Of gurgling always in a friendly babble, of having a permanent smile etched across her face.

That reminded her suddenly of her mother. Of the very last time Cherie had seen her. Of course, her mother had been smiling.  
But now she knew it hadn't been a real smile. The smile had been scarred, had been cracked somewhere in the middle so it didn't quite curve right. Blair had bent down with some difficulty to give her beloved daughter a hug, a very, very warm hug Cherie thought. And then she had whispered, "I'm sorry,"  
But how could her mother have ever thought that sorry would be _enough_?

"I'm sorry," Blair had said with a shaky laugh," I don't feel that well. But today is the day you will hold Artie, darling. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"  
And at that moment it had. Now it seemed like a terrible barter. Cherie had loved Artie for all of these four months but she had loved her mother all her life. And without Blair, these four months had been the hardest she had ever lived.

"When I come back," Blair had said, "We'll come back with Artie. You always said you wanted a little sibling, Cherie, so you could have someone to pick on too." Blair laughed, "So when we come back-"  
But her mother had never come back.  
She had broken her promise and Mommy had said that you _never_ broke those.

Lucien had been dangerously shrewd. He had already sensed the forbidding  
"Don't go," he pleaded suddenly, very out of character. Her brother was usually the strong one. He had clung to his mother's loose outfit suddenly as though he was a child being dropped off to Playgroup for the first time.

And Blair and Lucien had always had a special bond. She had looked into the souls of his gray eyes and understood.

She wrapped the small boy into a tender embrace and whispered, "Take care of your sister. Promise me you'll always take care of her?"

Lucien promised. But he still hadn't let go of their mother's dress.

"Mama," he whispered, "Why do you look so worried?"

Blair had smiled that broken smile. "I'm not worried, little Prince," she whispered. "Not about myself. I'm worried about our Artie. I'm worried that he might get hurt."

"_I'm _worried about you, Mama," Lucien had said in that serious tone little Cherie didn't understand. "I'm worried Artie will hurt _you_."

But Blair had kissed the top of his head and told him not to be ridiculous, after all Lucien and Cherie had never hurt her had they? Then what could be the worry? "That we know of," Lucien replied frowning. And their mother hadn't responded.

And Blair started to leave and Lucien had suddenly thrown a rare fit.

"Mom," he cried, clinging onto Blair like a chain. "Mom please-"

And she laughed asked if he wanted Artie to be delivered on the living room floor?

He hadn't been convinced. "Promise me, you'll be home real quick?"

And she promised but told him to take care of Cherie until she came back.

_Take care of Cherie until I come back._

Cherie realized suddenly what those words must have done to her brother.

In her mind's eye she saw her mother waving goodbye to them.

"I'll be back," Blair whispered to her children, before one last kiss. "You'll see, I'll be back soon!"

And then she left them forever, the scent of Dior blossoming in the house for the last time.

Cherie closed her eyes, suddenly prepared to meet Dolphins.

….

Suddenly her father's face was where it shouldn't have been, he was dragging her out of the bliss of her lonely bathtub and shouting out what her mother had described as' booboo words' all the time. He shook her, her tiny shivering form in her favorite crushed strawberry red dress, her fine locks, long and drenched against the pallor of her face, the wetness of her huge chestnut eyes. He shook her as though he wanted to kill her and Cherie was shocked because her Daddy had _never_ treated her like anything less than tenderly before.

And then suddenly he brought her to him and embraced her just as fiercely as her mother had that day.  
"How long were you under there?" he demanded but of course she couldn't answer him. So he yelled for the maids, the nannies and looked as though he could _kill_ Ophelia for how hard is it to track the whereabouts of a child? He had roared.

_Impossible it turns out,_ Charles Bass thought.

And then he said, "C'mon get dressed."

He helped his baby girl out of get clothes. Then he wrapped a large fluffy towel around her and carried her to the wardrobe and asked her to pick her favorite night dress for today. She picked the rose colored Sleeping Beauty PJ's. Dorota helped her wear them and then her father tucked her in with their favorite story: 'How the Grinch stole Christmas'. Cherie fell asleep somewhere in the middle, comfortably tucked in her father's side.

She fell asleep trying not to think that the world has changed and that her father has changed and Lucien has changed and that somehow, so had she.

….

Charles Bass sighed in relief when Cherie finally fell asleep. When he had first seen her still form in the tub he had literally been on the verge of passing out right then. Can a four year old be suicidal for God's sake?

Or was she just finding escape like the rest of them?

His hand found her forehead and he cursed when he realized it was burning.

…

Cherie looked tiny when asleep, younger than four, one hand wrapped around a stuffed bambie. The other clutching the comforter as though it is a lifeboat. He watched her, marveling that four years ago he did not know this person that has transformed him…that he did not know that a daughter's cry is more heart stopping than blast of a gunshot. And he can say this because he has experienced both things not so long ago.

Chuck watched his daughter sleeping, one small hand curled over the lacy coverlet, a spillage of chocolate curls falling over her wine colored pillow. Lush dark lashes rested a millimeter above pale, tear streaked skin. Chuck caught a tear clinging to a golden brown lash and kissed his daughter's forehead.

Her hand instinctively tightened over her snowy covers and she whimpered, restless and sad even in her dreams.

He didn't know what he was doing- all he knew was that his heart was in his throat as he watched her snivel softly in her slumber.

Chuck ran a hand over her still slightly burning forehead, brushing aside a chocolate curl. Cherie sighed as he smoothed back her tresses and silently whispered, "Mommy…"

His hand froze.

And Chuck cursed Blair at that moment. He truly cursed her. He could drop all the trips and deadlines and conferences in the world for his child. But Blair had not been able to stay, Blair had gone and he was still here, fixing the pieces….

Her claret lips had formed the word not spoken it. Chuck climbed into the tiny bed and pulled his sleeping child to him, bringing her small body against the comfort of his chest.

Cherie's tiny hand left the coverlet and came to curl against Chuck's collar, her head resting feather light onto his shoulder. She was as light as a cloud, as soft as ever. She cuddled against him, calming down for the first time since Chris and Ashley had left.

He thought he saw her unconsciously form the word 'Mommy' again and he held her tighter, bringing her closer to him, hugging her small body securely.

Chuck didn't know how but suddenly his voice came, soft and placating, singing one of the old lullabies that Blair used to sing to her. He would only do this for the little girl sleeping against him, her face burrowed into his chest.

Chuck sang softly to his daughter, his crooning voice lulling her to peace. She sighed and her small form finally relaxed. He kissed her burning forehead and hoped that the tears that fell from his eyes onto her form wouldn't wake her.

_"__Sweet baby, sleep, what ails my dear?  
What ails my darling thus to cry?  
Be still, my child and lend thine ear,  
To hear me sing thy lullaby._

_Lullaby, twilight is spreading  
Silver wings over the sky;  
Fairy elves are softly treading,  
Folding buds as they pass by.  
Lullaby, whisper and sigh,  
Lullaby, lullaby._

_Close white lids your dear eyes over,  
Mother's arms shall be your rest.  
Lullaby, whisper and sigh,  
Lullaby, lullaby._

_Sweet baby, sleep, what ails my dear?  
What ails my darling thus to cry?_

_Hush a bye,  
Don't you cry,  
Go to sleep, my little baby.  
When you wake,  
You shall have  
All the pretty little ponies._

_Can you see the little ponies  
Dance before your eyes?  
All the pretty little ponies  
Will be there when you arise"_

The lullaby finished and for a moment he simply drowned into the joy of holding his sleeping child, for one moment this gift overshadowed everything else.

"I love you, Cherie," he whispered to her. "And I'm not going anywhere."

And little Cherish Bass smiled tenderly in her sleep, fast asleep at last in her father's arms.

He promised himself that he would take her to the harbor tomorrow. She loved that.

And if God did exist than there was something Charles wanted above everything else.

_If I can't have Blair,_ he thought desperately, _Then please let me have her._

…..

…..

….

Mitch Sparks-Baizen glared at the twinkling fairy lights before him.

There was a nudge at his side. "Isn't it beautiful?" Georgina Sparks asked, smiling at him.

Mitch just shrugged.

His mother frowned at him. "Oh honey. Don't tell me you're still mad."

He just shrugged again.

She rolled his eyes. "You'll like it here, Michael. I promise. I know you don't like leaving your old school, your friends, your home…but you'll soon love it here!"

Like hell he would.

"This place is home too. Can't you feel it?"

Mitch wondered what she expected him to feel. It was freezing out here and he was cold, even in his bomber black jacket. All he felt was really cold. All he felt was really pissed. All he felt was really, really desperate to go back home.

Carter nudged his other side. "C'mon buddy. You have kindergarten tomorrow. Exciting right?"

Again Mitch wondered what was so exciting about it. It was sheer exasperation that was all. He had spent a good few months getting used to the kindergarten back home. And now he would have to start over. All that careful socializing and allying for what?

Carter kept his voice bright. "This is New York. You get the hottest here. Think….hot new teachers...pretty new girls…."

Mitch rolled his eyes again but a small smirk escaped his face and his parents laughed.

He squeezed his way out of them and walked a short way off so that he could chill in peace. His dark eyes flickered towards the fairy lights. The lush blue of the New York harbor. It was kind of pretty, you had to admit.

A gust of wind blew through his hair and he smiled through the cool breeze. Then he opened his eyes and immediately blinked because he couldn't believe he was awake when he saw something like that.

He wasn't sure at first what he saw. But whovever she was she held his rare attention.

She was huddled in an emerald green plaid overcoat, the furry, feathery collar brushing by the pink hue to her cheeks. A mass of thick, lustrous brownish curls flew around her face like an aura. He saw her face and for a moment he was knocked breathless because it fully resembled the face of one of those angels that fluttered in those classy paintings his mother liked so much.

For one solitary instant Mitch considered the possibility of meeting this angel.

Then an oaf came to snatch her away.

He frowned as the man lift her into the air and show her the harbor. But she turned away, pressing her face into her father's shoulder. For a heartbeat Mitch saw her eyes and he couldn't help thinking that... they were the saddest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

It was all he could do from running after her as her father carried away.

….

_If you look at my face you'd say I looked just like my mother. They say I have her intelligence, I have her smile. But ever since she left, I wish she'd taken these similarities with her. In her absence I've never needed a way to connect with my father more. My father…whose strength, sagacity and astuteness I have. I wish he could see it. But he never sees me._

_-Lucien Bass_

….

Chuck set Cherie down as they entered the hallway after the long drive home.

"Do you want any dinner?"

She shook her head, her curls dancing.

He stared at her. "Alright then. In a while. Meanwhile why don't you get upstairs? Pick out a game. I'll be right there."

She nodded and then ran towards the stairs.

Lucien approached his father.

"How's she doing?"

Charles let out a sharp breath. "Better. No credit to you."

Lucien's face looked pained. "Dad I only-"

"I know," Charles paused. "And I wanted to thank you."

"I never meant for this to-" Lucien's jaw dropped. "What?"

Charles sighed. "I can never seem to do this the right way. Because it _is _credit to you. You had the strength to do what I couldn't. You made me tell her something she had to know. I took it too far…so far that she was celebrating Blair's birthday the day I finally said it. It shouldn't have come to this. I raised her hopes and expectations so high that when I finally told her…she went into shock. If we would have waited any longer…if she would have kept waiting for Blair…it might have been even worse."

Lucien was speechless.

"So…thank you."

It's a miracle. His father...he's back.

Lucien caught that moment like a firefly in his fist. It wouldn't last he knew. So he had to make the most of it while he could.

There is so much he wants to say to his father, words he was waiting to say since months, words he had saved just for this day.

"Dad-" Lucien began his heart in his throat.

There was a deathly scream.

Both Charles and Lucien whirled around to see the crumpled mass at the bottom of the stairs.

For a moment all was still. Then both of them ran towards the little girl crying on the marbled floor.

Charles reached and touched her face in savage worry. "Honey, what hurts?"

He noticed her twisted ankle and touched it only to have her screech.

"Daddy!"

And despite the panicked moment Charles felt something in his heart burst.

He hugged his crying child and screamed for Dorota and all the Nannies in the world.

But the fête in his heart remained.

Because In all of four weeks her first word had belonged just to him.

...

...

From the lost Journal of Blair Waldorf

(The night same night she told her children goodbye)

_Dear Diary,_

_I made a mistake. I misconstrued._

_Of course I'm afraid of what the outcome will be. I'm afraid that leaving them alone would be too much for Chuck to take. He loves them but he hates to lose. And he won't be able to stand losing me._

_Except in the end, I believe they will be fine. After all, they will have each other just like _we_ had each other when we were so alone. Nate's parents were space cadets, Lily was falling out of one marriage into the next, Bart was bitter and brutal and my mom was…well never mind._

_Nate, Serena, Chuck, myself. As children we were all were alone. But our loneliness was what we had in common. It was one of the first things that brought us together…then one of the things that _held_ us together. _

_I'm not leaving them alone. I'm leaving them with each other._

_Does it make me a terrible person if I knew I had to do this all along?_

BW

**...**

**...**

**Ps- there seems to be a problem with this update- the fourth chapter has issues downloading due to possibly old URL. Hence I'm deleting the chapter momentarily and updating it again. Let's hope you don't have any trouble reading the latest chapter.**

**A/N: Okay. There are clues there but I do realize that the story has a baffling side to it. For those who might have expected Blair's state of affairs to be revealed in this chapter I apologize…but in Blair's situation was meant to be revealed a bit later. For now I would appreciate it greatly if you would put up with the twists and turns of my crazy story. Hopefully the next update should be a bit quicker. Somehow I have a feeling that this chapter might not have been as good as I wanted it to be. God, I'm always worried about this story- it's the one of the hardest ones I've ever written! As always, be sure to let me know your thoughts!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: You Broke My Heart**

**A/ N: I've been torn about posting this chapter. I don't like my chapters **_**too**_** long but this one simply refused to end! I'm still apprehensive about posting my longest chapter yet. Thank you everyone so much, for putting up with my erratic schedule. XOXO**

_Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same._

_-Emily Bronte _

…..

Cherie thought he was the most irritable boy she had ever seen. And_ she_ lived with Lucien.

He had rumpled dark hair that his father kept smoothing much to his annoyance and a mother- who dramatically wept as she bade him farewell….almost as though she was sending him to battle. The parents quite clearly adored him but had no idea how to _express_ their love. Hence they opted for expressing it as _much_ as possible. Cherie stifled a giggle as his mother kissed the boy on the cheek and his whole face turned fire-engine red. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she refused to let him go until she had properly bid him adieu- just in case this was the last time she ever saw him.

By the time his parents drove off the dark haired boy looked relieved. Then he wiped the lipstick off his face and looked disgusted.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced lazily around….as though merely to see if there was anyone worth wasting his time over. He glanced at Chris and a couple of the other boys eagerly shoveling each other in the sandbox and looked contemptuous. He glanced at the girls running around pulling each other's pigtails and after a second's evaluation looked bored. Cherie found it impressive that there was no nervousness or timidity in him, just….lazy self assurance.

She was watching him with a vague interest until he happened to glance her way. He blinked once.

And then he froze.

…..

Mitch Sparks Baizen stood impatiently outside the kindergarten doors waiting for her. That vision in green he hadn't been able to get out of his head.

Thank God he'd finally gotten rid of his parents. They'd been acting so embarrassing like they'd never dropped him off to kindergarten before. His mother had burst into tears and wept how she couldn't believe her little boy was finally all grown up. Again. His father had smoothed up his carefully tousled hair effectively ruining all his hard work. Then his dad had topped it all with loudly declared that he had never been prouder in his life.

Mitch had to bite his tongue from telling his parents that he was going to school- not war.

After several mushy moments they'd finally left and Mitch had been so glad to wave them goodbye that his father commented once more on how BRAVE his little boy was acting when from inside he must be terrified.

Yeah right.

Him? Scared? Not happening.

Truthfully not much scared Mitch. Last summer when his parents had taken him to the snake house he'd had a freaking good time. And he had even felt some affection for his patronizing mother who was petrified of all things that wringled and hissed but still made it to the reptile park because she'd been too scared to let Mitch go alone. If that didn't prove her undying love he didn't know what did.

He knew his parents loved him a lot. He also knew that they had absolutely no idea how to show it so they resorted to showing it as embarrassingly as possible. He supposed it wasn't his parent's fault that they had no clue how to raise a four year old boy but very badly wanted to try anyway. He supposed he would just have to patient with them. They didn't know any better after all.

Wait where were we? Oh yeah. How he wasn't afraid of anything.

Sure switching schools was going to be hard. But he liked picking his own friends and when he solidified friendships he didn't break them. That had to mean something- that instinctive bond formed on pure insight. You don't break a promise to a friend.

And Mitch had promised his dad- yes the guy had no IDEA what he was doing but he was trying right?- his dad who was his best friend- that he would not put up too much of a tantrum over saying goodbye to his old kindergarten. And Carter Baizen was the coolest dad on this planet. He had let Mitch keep a beautiful grass green snake as a pet that his mother didn't even _know_ about.

No worries. The snake wasn't poisonous at all. And it was already dropping its nasty temper.

Besides, Mitch could already feel he was was going to like it here.

About that trip to the docks. It turned out his parents actually_ knew_ the man Mitch had seen at the docks. The one with the sad looking kid.

"_Look," Georgina Sparks Baizen said brightly. "It's Chuck ****ing Bass with something too cute for him."_

_She had been referring to the little girl, cuddled in her father's arms._

_Carter had nudged her. "Georgie! Not in front of the kid!"_

_Georgina had looked shamefaced. "Oops!"_

_Mitch had pretended not to pay attention. Really it wasn't his parents fault. They were just so….helpless as parents. It wasn't that they didn't mean well. They just needed to be guided a little._

The first thing that Mitch had done that day after coming home from the docks was have his au pair google the name Chuck ****ing Bass. He found an explosion of webpages telling him exactly who Chuck ****ing Bass was. He also learnt that as his au pair read wikipedia (of course Mitch was too young to read or write much just yet)- Chuck ****ing Bass's daughter (that girl he'd seen at the pier) was Cherish Cornelia Elizabeth Bass.

Mitch's first thought was what sort of a name was that. His second was what the heck her parents had been thinking naming her that. His third was that he was under no circumstances calling her that.

Then he found out that she went to the same kindergarten he did. At that he had smirked.

He'd picked his first friend at St Jude's and Constance kindergarten.

It took a while before Mitch found Cherish Bass but when he did it was hard to miss her. She was a vision in the black and white burberry trench coat and ankle boots with her hair a mass of dark curls and her eyes too large in her pale face. He found himself thinking exactly the same thought he'd thought at the pier that day. That those eyes looked too sad to belong in such a cherubic face.

That honestly? That was the reason he had to get to know her. She seemed curiously _sad_ and that... Bothered him.

Their gazes met. She stared at him and he stared back.

And for a second he was frozen.

He didn't really see the dark haired boy as he neared her, he didn't even notice the golden haired girl standing even closer. He approached her feeling drawn.

She blinked. Her eyes were raised to meet his. They're full on force was mind boggling.

"Hi," Mitch said to her.

Cherish didn't smile but it seemed to him she would have if she hadn't been so glum.

"Hi," she said softly.

Out of the corner of Mitch's eye he thought he saw the dark haired taller kid start towards him almost as though on reflex. The golden haired girl kicked him in the shins just as reflexively.

There was a snarling _"Ow,"_

Mitch grinned. "I'm Mitch Baizen," he told Cherish smoothly wishing she'd smile. Those huge quiet eyes pained him. "What's your name?"

Like he didn't know. But it was polite to ask.

"Cherie," she answered so softly he thought he misheard her until she said the words again, they felt like a curl of the glassy green tubes of waves flattening against his sandy feet. "Cherie Bass."

Cherie Bass. That was a little bit better. That he could deal with. So her parent's next step had been to name her after a fruit but that was okay. He glanced at her cherry red lips and strawberry pink flush and decided it wasn't such an inappropriate name after all.

"Hi Cherie," he said in a voice just as soft as hers. He wanted her to feel comfortable and besides the eavesdropping elder brother - (he'd figured that was what he was- there was something alike in their hair color and faces) - was not only annoying he was alarming.

True Mitch wasn't afraid of anything but seriously the tall kid looked prepared to beat him up if he made one wrong move. Hmm. Maybe there was something to his mother calling Chuck Bass a ****er. Mitch felt like calling the brother a ****er just to see if he'd actually punch him or not.

But his mother had taught him not to swear. And he wanted to make a good impression with the ladies. He didn't want to scare the girl before him at any rate.

So he said in a voice as soft as hers, "Hi Cherie. I'm new around here. And I don't really know anyone. Want to be friends?"  
He was never planning on taking no as an answer.

And then something wonderful happened. She did smile. The first actual crescent he'd ever seen those cherry red lips shape into. She smiled, suddenly the whole world seemed alright again, the sadness in her eyes melted and simultaneously Mitch felt his breath catch.

"Sure," she answered in an easy tone and Mitch saw her brother frown behind her. "I'd love to be friends. I can't believe you're new. Did your parents make you switch mid year?"

Mitch observed in amazement as she chattered bright eyed, that one smile having transformed her. He picked up on the fact that she wasn't really shy. She was just... something had just happened…to….

She had been hurt recently. He didn't know how he knew that.

But he did.

"We moved from Chicago," he explained eager to keep that miraculous smile on her face. "My dad's business transferred to New York. I hated leaving. I just finished saying goodbye to all of my friends last week."

"How awful," her voice filled with sympathy that made him secretly smile. "I would hate leaving any of my friends. I'd never let us move." Those brown eyes widened curiously. "I've never been to Chicago. What is it like?"

And just like that she was his friend.

Mitch found himself explaining things to her he knew he could never justly explain. How the buildings back home were so tall sometimes that he could have looked up for ages but never spied the top. How New York just seemed to cold, didn't feel right. How his mother would spend ages in the shopping malls back home driving him crazy as she tried to fit different outfits over him until he accused her of obviously wishing he'd been born a girl. Of how his stomach had tied up when it had been time to hug his friend Parker goodbye. That sometimes he wished he could bottle time so it would stop moving. Cherie turned out to be an excellent listener and she seemed to understand and Mitch wondered if you could spill your four year old life story to a total stranger and still feel okay about it like he did.

And then suddenly it all went wrong.

They were talking, and the next something happened and Cherie's face just snapped up.

One second she was with him. And the next she was gone.

Ironically it wasn't even her brother who had caused the problem. The blonde haired girl (he totally owed her) was keeping a very firm grip on the brother's shoulder.

It was a guy. A guy that caused Mitch to narrow his eyes.

Stupid pretty faced boy bangs. It figured that he was blonde with these big stupid blue eyes and toothy smiles. She had run up to him so naturally it had seemed like a magnetic pull. And he was grinning at her, laughing. Mitch watched the brother walk up to the pair of them looking relieved and absolutely delighted. Mitch felt his gaze darken.

Suddenly, Cherie turned around and waved at Mitch to join her.

"Mitch!" She said brightly. "Meet Christopher Nathaniel Archibald. Chris this is Mitch"

Chris gave him a polite smile. Mitch hated that. When boys he wanted to beat up flashed him polite smiles. With difficulty he smiled back and then said, "Hey Cherie how about showing me the classrooms?"

"Sure," Cherie said. "C'mon you guys."

Mitch flashed Christopher a sweet smile of triumph. Take that boy bangs.

Either Christopher was genuinely stupid or just plain nice because he didn't notice the sarcasm behind the smile and practically beamed back. Mitch frowned.

Chris Archibald. He was going to have to do something about that one.

…_**.**_

_**Seven weeks later:**_

"_We spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up."_

_-Phyllis Diller _

Charles sighed noisily as his cell buzzed in the middle of the colloquium.

He peeked quickly at the caller ID. Cherie. Of course.

He raised a hand to make the graying bore in front of him to stop yakking passionately about real estate and made a motion to leave the room.

Lawrence scowled at him.

_Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Maybe one day when you had a toddler daughter of your own, you'll understand._

Charles turned to the rest of the room and offered them a polite, "Excuse me, I have to take this."

Most of them nodded. But they sort of looked like they wanted to scowl too.

"Daddy?"

He had to smile a little at the familiar, demanding voice. He had dearly missed that voice during her weeks of silence. He had dearly missed the trace of impatience and hint laughter in a voice that could have only belonged to angels.

Or Blair, a million years ago.

"You weren't there when I woke up. Dorota said you left for work early. I said I wanted to talk to you but she told me to hush and finish my breakfast."

He chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't eat breakfast with you, Princess. I see so little of you as it is. Didn't Dorota make you any French crepe?"

"Yes," Cherie said grudgingly. "But she made me drink a whole glass of milk when she knows quite clearly that I'm lactose intolerant, Daddy!"

He laughed. "From where in the world did you _that_ pick up?"

"Dorota told Aunty Serena to have some milk first, to set a good example for me. Aunty Serena looked sick and that's when I heard her say _she_ was lactose intolerant, Daddy!"

"Well, I'll make sure Dorota finds some other means to provide you with dairy because of your little setback. Aren't you at school yet?"

"Not quite, daddy, and did you hear that Dorota caught me doing- _helping _Ashley with her homework and told me off! Daddy, I don't want to ever talk to Dorota again!"

"Now, now, surely you don't mean ever again," said Charles soothingly. "After all, whatever will happen when you want Dorota to take you to feed the ducks, or make you some crepes? You know nobody makes better blueberry crepes than Dorota."

"Oh, surely not?" Cherie sounded crestfallen. "What about all the Parisian bakers in the world daddy?"

"Well, we can try," said Charles doubtfully, "but it will be very, very hard to find such perfect crepes in all the world, Princess-"

"Well, alright," Cherie said reluctantly, "I suppose I could forgive her one last time….Mommy always used to say that Dorota means well, didn't she Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, she did," Charles replied, his throat having closed up slightly.

"Then I'll be gracious and let the matter slide….Daddy, promise me you'll come home early?"

"Princess, I'm afraid-"

"Pretty please?" Cherie whined influentially, making Charles smile slightly. "With no cream, two teaspoon of brown sugar and very little milk on top?"

Charles burst out laughing. "That's exactly how I like my coffee. From where in the world did you get such a memory?"

"From Mommy, of course," Cherie replied proudly. "_Please_ come home early Daddy?"

"I'll do my best, Princess," Charles promised. "I have to go now-"

"Oh, school's here- bye Daddy! Hey Ashley did you-"

The ring of the call snapping hummed in his ears. Charles grinned and removed the blackberry storm from his ear. Then he blinked when he abruptly realized he still had a meeting to attend. Damn these tedious events. With all honesty he'd much rather be at home, playing Trivial Pursuit with his delightfully intelligent daughter.

…..

Maybe she was becoming more spoilt as her years flew by. Or maybe just lonelier. But Cherish Bass called her father four more times that day.

She's not annoying. She's four. And has a cellphone. And misses her father.

Was it that terrible? She wondered. Dorota warned her not to disturb her father too much during work…. "He no say it, he laugh, but he very busy, he no like you calling Mees Cheree."

But she wanted to talk to him. She needed to.

Eventually she interrupted an important conference with Japanese investors and Charles's temper, already so close to the surface these days and precariously controlled just for the sweet little girl with the dimpled smile and pretty dark curls, began to simmer hazardously but silently.

"And then I told Chris that I wanted to be fairy princess but Ashley said she wanted to be, and Mrs. Fletcher picked Ashley for the main lead and I began to argue so she told me not to be a bad girl and then she found out I had a cell phone and she threatened to take it away and I hate her, daddy-"

"That's sounds nice," Charles said vaguely, noting that the investors were getting somewhat impatient. "Princess, call me in a while, will you, I'm a little busy right now-"

"But Daddy, Ms. Fletcher made me the stepsister! Because the princess has yellow hair and the stepsister has brown!" she was near tears now.

Charles was honestly not listening; he was too worried about each passing the minute the investors spent in his absence.

"Just lovely, Cherie call me in an hour okay-"

He hung up on her. Cherie was so scandalized that she stifled her strikingly scarlet phone into the overstuffed depths of her Beauty and the Beast little wheelie bag and promised herself she would not touch it again for her Daddy was a meanie and she definitely very nearly hated him too.

Beauty and the Beast her mother had gotten her. "Because sometimes the princess can be intelligent and bookish and brown haired too," Blair had said, "And she can still be beautiful to the Beast who was a Prince all along but had just forgotten."

_Just forgotten._

"_Can the Prince forget who he is Mommy?"_

"_Maybe. If the Princess isn't there to remind him."_

To nobody's surprise Ashley's favorite fairytale was Cinderella. Lucien pretended to have no interest in Disney movies but Cherie thought she saw him shed a secret tear over Lion King- especially when little Simba put his paw in his father's much larger paw print and turned sad….although Cherie had not understood why exactly. To her, the most tragic scene had been of the running beasts….and the death of Musafa….which Lucien had watched dried eyed and with a hard face.

Mitch, she knew had a thing for the cartoon that was also his fathers favorite….Aladdin….the street thief turned prince.

Cherie giggled. Mitch always did like the sneaky heroes.

And Chris….somehow she couldn't remember who Chris had liked best.

Oh wait. Hercules. Because of those bulging muscles.

And Cherie's favorite Disney movie had been Beauty and the Beast….because her mother had watched it with her and it was a lovely memory.

When she had watched it again, with Ashley recently, her friend had been rather affronted by the beast and could hardly wait for the beast to turn prince. When he did, Ashley cheered and smiled, fully involved in the movie just before it was about to end. But after the initial joy over realizing that the Beast hadn't died….Cherie felt oddly unhappy. She had fallen for the hurt, oversensitive, bitter, brutish monster, who carried Belle like a gentleman during their dreamlike waltz. She had giggled at his endearing clumsiness and had warmed at his hesitant attempts to be loving. She had, by the end of the day, been besotted by the transition of the beast that would still give the impression of a beast- but who had in fact become a man. When the beast became a man literally though, she felt as though she had lost him, as though Belle had lost him, she missed his rough voice and too large gentle hands….she was glad when Belle too was suspicious and only trusting when she saw the prince still had the same pretty blue eyes….

She should also mention how much she loves the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Cherie had cried when she saw the Hunchback of Norte Dame. It was a movie her mother had considered too mature for her….so when her mother left for her little 'trip', Cherie jumped on the opportunity to call over Ashley and Chris and even Mitch now watch the movie at once.

Ashley of course was delighted when the Esmeralda went for the good looking guy whose name Cherie could not recall for she had decided he was irrelevant. For she had been solidly on Quasimodo's side since she knew what it was like to be so lonely….to talk to things that didn't talk back….until you were alone with them. To be hidden away from so much of the world. To love and to never be sure….or even truly believe if you are worthy of love to begin with….

She whimpered whenever anybody called the hunchback a monster and adamantly thought that he was not, he was not a monster- just like she fought with her brother over the fact that Hulk wasn't a monster-he was just a surly man who'd been down on his luck and the world was stupid because they couldn't understand him, couldn't see that he was in fact a hero.

When Quasimodo had finally been turned down by Esmeralda, Cherie burst into the noisiest tears she had ever administered in public.

Chris had looked afraid. Ashley concerned and surprised. Mitch had just looked bored and tugged at her curl to get her attention.

"Cherie, why the heck should you want Esmeralda to pick Quasimodo? Just because she felt sorry for him?"

"No," Cherie bit back with tearful venom. "But because no one could ever love her as much as he did."

Mitch looked taken aback at the comment. Chris still looked afraid. And Ashley smiled and did not cheer for the good looking guy again.

Cherie felt tears in her eyes again as she sat in that classroom. That was why she loved Quasimodo and the Beast and Hulk. They were strong yet soft, petulant but they always made time for their Princess's unlike her father who couldn't even listen to what she was saying.

Since Cherie was only four she still wasn't exactly sure how the clock worked or how long an hour was….surely it must have been an hour by now….the long hand had travelled past four whole numbers…..she snuck out her phone and speed dialed her father again.

She had no one to talk to. Ashley was playing fairy princess and none of her other friends took English with her. And she missed…..she missed….

Well she missed her mother and for some reason even her father who was just a button away.

Both of them were so far away.

His voice came almost at once but it wasn't what she expected….it wasn't cheerful and engaging as it had been the last many times she'd called- it was gruff and tense. She went still as she heard him say, "Yes, Cherish, what is it this time?"

She knew the word Cherish distinctly meant to love someone very, very much but her father was always in a sour mood when he called her by her actual name.

A name he had picked himself because it had been an inside joke with her mother.

She filled her lungs with air and said mournfully, "Daddy, Ms. Fletcher sent me to the back because the inferior cast gets to rehearse later-"

She nearly dropped the phone when he exploded at her.

"Is this the reason why you called me for the thirteenth time?" he very nearly yelled. "Daddy this, daddy that, there is not a moment when I don't have you kids nagging me for something- if it isn't you it's your elder brother telling me how I don't do anything right- if it isn't him-it's- it's that-"

Young Cherie was appalled. No one- no one had ever yelled at her like this. It would have been different if she'd had her mother to talk to- her mother brightly waiting and asking her how her day went- her mother soothing her over the phone if Dorota accidently packed the wrong sandwiches- her mother tucking her in with a sweet kiss and the calming scent of Dior- her mother spending the whole day with her and Lucien- making Cherie laugh so much she was sure her side would burst- her mother taking her to Central park- her mother fixing Lucien's tie-her mother picking out her headbands- her mother feeding the ducks-her mother laughing- her mother teasing her father- her mother to whom she could complain about Daddy's office hours- her mother saying goodbye- her mother- her mother- her-

"I hate you!" she cried, the words she'd never said to her father- not ever really to anyone but in that instant she felt it to be true. "I hate you! You're a horrible daddy! You don't love me anymore, you don't love Liam anymore, you never tuck in Artie- you shout all the time- I wish- I wish my Mommy would come and take me with her!" and with a great sob she closed her phone and then dropped it and stomped at it with all her might.

"Holy…."

Cherie whirled around to see the stunned face of Mitch Sparks-Baizen staring at her.

…..

A wolfish grin erupted on his face as she watched him, ashen, barely recovered, tearful, "Cherie Bass. Well, well, well. Not so saintly now are we?"

She struggled to collect herself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cherie said coldly. "But I'll have you know I was just practicing."

Mitch looked more amused by the minute.

"Practicing…." He echoed in a soft voice.

"Yes," Cherie held her head high. "I have been chosen for the fall play."

"How wonderful," Mitch gave her a half smile she wasn't sure was a mocking sneer or a congratulatory beam. "Why, you must be none other than enchantly Cinderella. And yet, somehow I don't remember a scene in which Cinderella stamps her cellphone to death."

"Enchanting," she corrected acidly because she had no clue how to reply otherwise.

Mitch looked surprised. "So I take you _aren't_ playing Cinderella? That does bring me down. I'm sure you would have played the part to perfection- you act like a Queen on an ordinary basis as it is."

She wasn't sure what he meant. She was Cherie Bass….shy, sweet toned, polite….when she wasn't losing a temper she didn't know she had the ability to lose….and smashing her posh cell phone with the shiny heel of her midnight black buckled school shoe.

"Yes, well I didn't," she couldn't help but let the sadness creep into her voice. "I get to be the wicked step sister instead."

Now Mitch looked truly appalled. "What?" he sputtered in genuine disgust. "Are you kidding me? You would make a terrible stepsister!"

"Er- thank you," Cherie said not certain whether to take this as a compliment or not. "But the play has relatively few female roles- and very few main leads. This way at least I'll have plenty of lines."

"Lines Shmines," Mitch scoffed. "It doesn't matter how many lines you have if they dress you into an ugly old maid. There is no one who would make a better princess than you."

"Except for Ashley Archibald," Cherie said with a small smile. "Cinderella reincarnated in real life."

"That ever-happy cheerleader to-be? What does she know? I doubt she can tell a waltz from a wag."

Cherie giggled involuntarily before saying, "Cheerleaders aren't so bad. Aunty Serena posed as a cheerleader last Halloween and dressed my Mommy as one too. My daddy couldn't stop staring and saying how much he loved the outfit and if my mother could perform a few cartwheels for him."

Mitch smirked at the sweetly innocent way Cherie said it. She was the only interesting thing in the whole damn kindergarten.

"Key word was Halloween," he informed her. "So- what's the plan for snagging the role of Cinderella?"

Cherie looked surprised. "What plan? I wasn't chosen, that's that. It's alright- I told you I mostly enjoy acting- that's where all the fun lies. Besides, Ashley got picked for the lead role. Ashley is my best friend. I'm supposed to be happy for her."

"Are you?" he asked dryly full well knowing the answer. She was too in love with the whole fairytale picture to ever tolerate anyone else playing the lead. Even it was Ashley Archibald.

Cherie glared at him. "Don't you have a class to go to or something?"

"Just art, no hurry," he said lazily, stretching his arms. "Besides arguing with you is much more interesting."

He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, presenting a much different picture from the charming, courteous boy who came over to her that morning. The boy, who unashamedly admitted that he was new, knew not a soul and asked if she would be friends with him.

She was already staring to rethink her decision. She had of course, impulsively said yes, because he asked so nicely and because it appalled her that someone's parent's would be clueless enough to make their child switch kindergarten midyear. Besides her mother had told her to beware of rude little boys who had strange habits of turning melancholic without any warning.

Mitch had seemed not in the least melancholic or rude. He'd had an easy smile and bright, observant eyes and through out their walk to classes had kept her and Ashley laughing. He had also beamed cheerfully at Lucien as the older boy had glared at him darkly.

Now she realized that Mitch's humorous nature had a sly side as well. He could be rude, indolent and very pushy.

"Now listen, Cherie," Mitch said with an air of a parent explaining the obvious to an overemotional toddler. "If you want to play Cinderella then you're going to have to make it happen. None of this smashing cellphones at the sidelines stuff. You can't keep all that rage and emotion bottled inside. You have to let lose of your emotions constructively by say….arguing your case."

She squinted at him. "Why do you talk like that?"

"My mother likes to watch a lot of Oprah," he waved a hand dismissively, "anyway, I suggest you go to Ms. Fletcher and demand a re-audition."

"Mitch I am not stealing the main role from my best friend."

"And how many times has she stolen the main role from you?" he asked patronizingly.

Cherie started to retort before trailing off.

The times Cherie and Ashley had entered Cherie's birthday party together and the very first complements had gone to her blonde friend and not her….the times Ashley had been picked first when they were playing soccer with the boys….not because she was any better than Cherie but because Davin Humphrey found her irresistible….the times Cherie had wanted to buy the Hermes purse in perfect navy blue and Ashley bought an identical one for herself in blood red-cheerfully declaring that this would make them seem like sister's….except the blood red would always overshadow the navy blue…..the time Uncle Eric got them both unicorns….and Cherie had insisted that the rainbow tailed one was hers and the curly yellow tailed one was Ashley's but Ashley had disagreed and Ashley had been right….Uncle Eric _had_ gotten her the rainbow one.

The time when Cherie had wanted the role of Cinderella so badly….but Ashley had wanted it too and Ashley had gotten it.

"I thought so," Mitch replied for her smugly. "Cherie I think if you truly want the part you shouldn't back down….because Ashley will continue to acquire all the glass slippers thrown her way….but you….you're the one who knows that it is not the stars that hold our destiny. It's ourselves."

"Seriously why do you talk like that?"

"I like Shakespeare sonnets," he said sounding bored. "Now are you going to re-audition or  
what?

"What."Cherie replied wearily. "Mitch I appreciate the concern…..and the metaphors….but it's alright. I'm used to it now. I don't care anymore."

And she walked away leaving him staring after her disbelievingly….and a very smashed cell phone beeping feebly albeit repeatedly as someone just kept on calling.

….

Lucien Bass blinked in surprise as he realized who was calling him.

Charles Bass.

Not daddy. Not dad. Charles Bass.

It hurt less this way.

He wasn't sure when he'd switched the caller ID. He didn't think he cared.

He and his father had been getting along better lately….but not by much. Lucien couldn't help being defiant and offensive most of the time….it was who he was. And his father couldn't help being a self-possessed slab of granite.

Still, Lucien had not received a call from Charles Bass in….well it had been a very long time since he'd received a call from Charles Bass. The last time had been nearly more than half a year ago one very rainy night when his Dad had called him when they had all been vacationing in London….

_"Raining here too….terribly….won't be sure if we'll make it by dinner- you watch over your sister alright? Tell her not to be afraid of the thunder- it's only Zues playing….she watched Hercules yesterday, she'll love that theory. Of course then she'll insist that Zues isn't real and elaborate on the water cycle. Such a damn night to be out. You're not afraid are you?"_

_The last time his father had asked him if was afraid._

_"Not at all," he'd lied._

_"You can't imagine how glad your mother and I am that your sister has you. She loves thunderstorms she should be alright but she'll get upset if that damn kitten's hiding under the bed again. She had to get the kitten that's a tiger when it comes to disobeying me but the cowardly lion when it comes to loud noises. We should have gotten her a dog. She had to inherit her mother's habit of bringing poor, furry creatures home, hadn't she?"_

_There was a muffled "hey!" and the sound of something thudding. Charles- Chuck was laughing._

_Laughing._

_"I'm being attacked-" he said in mock helplessness and Blair's muffled, distant voice came from behind him. "Lucien I have to go now but we'll try to make it home soon. You know I love you right?"_

_"Sure Dad," he said lightly, because then he had known, had been sure. "I'll take care of Cherie and you can take care of Mom."_

_"Deal," Chuck said promptly as there was more thudding. "Although neither of them needs much protecting- in fact I'm the one that needs protecting from both of them- you're lucky your mother and your sister happen to love you-"_

_There was a muffled "Ow!" and then more laughter._

_"I have to go now, Lucien," Chuck said cheerfully. "Blair's saying goodbye again. And remember if this was a cartoon it would just be Zues playing alright? And I love you."_

"I remember dad," he thought, staring at the buzzing phone. "At least I try to."

Even if you don't.

He picked up the phone.

"What took so long?" Charles demanded the second Lucien clicked the receiving button.

He sighed. "I do attend classes you know. In case that slipped your memory. I had to get a hall pass to receive this."

Not that you would realize.

"Oh," Charles paused then rocketed off, "Have you heard from your sister?"

"Sure," Lucien popped open his locker and grabbed an apple. It was a good thing the hallways were deserted. "We talked just this morning. You know, at breakfast, which you missed-"

"Listen," Charles said in a low, dangerous voice. "I don't have time for your guilt tripping right now. Have you seen Cherie at all since you two reached school?"

Stung, Lucien took a bite of the apple and slammed the locker shut. "Gee, dad, I don't know which planet you're living on these days but Cherie and I have thoroughly different classes considering I'm in first grade and she's in like prep school. The last time I saw her was recess."

"When was that?" Charles asked sounding completely like an alien landed from Mars.

"Um," Lucien trudged towards the bathrooms. "At lunch?"

Something in his voice seemed to add the word _duh._

Charles grinded his teeth. "Liam," he said using the nickname Blair reserved for him and shocking the boy so much that he nearly dropped his apple. "Please try and find your sister for me."

Lucien blinked. "Say that again."

Really, he was just so confused and surprised by the "please".

Charles burst out. "You're enjoining this aren't you? You don't understand. Her cell phone is not responding at all. I must have called a hundred times. And she isn't in her classes. I called the principle. They have custodians looking for her. But knowing Cherie, this isn't enough. I just need you to find her. Alright?"

"Let me get this straight," Lucien had now dropped his backpack and was frozen mid hallway. "You want me to skip class, possibly get detention and go to the kindergarten girls section to find Cherie?"

"Yes," said Charles as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Dad," Lucien knew his sister way too well to not understand this. "What did you say to her?"

Chuck paused.

"We argued," he said wearily. "I might have yelled at her-"

"Yelled at her?" Lucien voice was a soft, lethal hiss.

"I was just- trying to get these tight ass- I mean ass_iduous_ investors to sign a contact and she kept calling-"

"You yelled at my sister?" Lucien demanded. "You yelled at the girl who got cured of Somatoform disorder by falling down the stairs a month ago? You yelled at her because she wanted to _talk_ to you?"

How ironic. A month ago his father would have fallen on his knees to hear a coherent word from Cherie. And now she's in disgrace because she talks too _much?_

Maybe she is annoying. But she's four. And going through hell.

"Just…."Charles sounded so exhausted Lucien might have sympathized if he wasn't so furious. "Find her."

Lucien is too busy struggling to think of an appropriate curse to hurl at his father. No wonder they can't get along. His father so isn't worth it.

"Or tell me where she is- you would know and I'll send Mike-" Charles added.

"There's a reason you don't like talking to me," Lucien told him, throwing the apple into the nearest trashcan. "I tell you truth about who you are. I show you the mirror."

"Lucien-"

"-And that stings Dad. Doesn't it?"

He snapped the cell phone shut and ran out.

…..

_The story book showed a beautiful picture of a blood red rose encased in a glass bell jar, dropping petals painstakingly._

_In elegant, twisiting script the cover read: **Beauty and the Beast.**_

"_Because sometimes the princess can be intelligent and bookish and brunette too," Blair was saying, "And she can still be beautiful to the Beast who was a Prince all along but had just forgotten."_

_Just forgotten._

"_Can the Prince forget who he is Mommy?"_

"_Maybe. If the Princess isn't there to remind him."_

_Cherie looked worried, watching the bloody petals fall. "What if the Princess never comes? Does the Prince never remember? Does it get too late?"_

_Blair kissed her forehead. "Don't be silly darling. Don't you know? The Princess always comes."_

_But then again…._

_That had been just a fairytale_

_._


End file.
